


Dear Sirius

by duva, fictionalcandie



Series: Sirius Is A Totally Helpful Advice Columnist 'verse [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Agony Uncle, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Developing Relationship, Epistolary, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-18
Updated: 2009-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 227,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duva/pseuds/duva, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thrice weekly in the Evening Prophet's entertainment section, Sirius Black answers all your questions, from the mundane to the complicated to the just plain weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 19–25 September 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and his teammate Christine have lunch.

 

 

  
  
_Click for full size view_

**Monday, 19 September 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Have you got any good recipes to share? I'm a bachelor just like you and every time I try to cook I end up setting fire to my eyebrows. It's really getting quite inconvenient and I'm tired of toast. Any suggestions?**  
 **Sincerely, Culinary challenged**

Dear Challenged,  
My advice is that you get married.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I have a problem. I am a Muggle-born wizard, set to marry a Pureblood witch from a very old and prestigious family. Her family has been really good about accepting me, but now that we're getting married they're insisting I take her surname! She has no brothers and is the last one who carries their name, so I can sort of see where they're coming from, but it's the same situation on my side of the family! What should I do?**  
 **/E. Belcher**

Dear Mr Belcher,  
Have you talked to your fiancée about your concerns on this subject? This would seem to me to be something that ought to be decided between the two of you, as you're the ones it will effect. And while with my background I fully appreciate how zealously some old purebloods advocate the continuation of their name, I just have to point out that tradition, in both wizarding and Muggle cultures, would have the only proper course be her taking your name. Talk to your fiancée; the two of her talk to her family, and yours. Now, if no other solution can be negotiated, I recommend hyphenation; that should appease both sides of the family, which appears to be what you really want to do.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Is it all right to wear brown boots with black dress robes? My mum says it's not but my mates reckons it is. Help us settle it!**  
 **Love, Kelsey**

Dear Kelsey,  
Absolutely not! How gauche. Only the uninformed wear brown footwear with black robes. My compliments to your mum; she's entirely in the right.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Who do you think will win this year's Quidditch Cup?**  
 **/M. Davis**

Dear Mr Davis,  
Portree will, of course. The Harpies have a decent shot, if their couch could figure out how to control that Seeker of theirs, and the Arrows appear to be in the running, but my money's on the Prides.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
After seeing your headshot, I have a pressing question for you. How do you get your hair to fall into place so perfectly? I have tried everything and yet I can't manage it. I think it would really improve my chances with the ladies if I looked more well-coiffed, if you know what I mean.  
Best wishes, Scarecrow**

Dear Scarecrow,  
I'm afraid it's genetics that make my hair look so good. I don't do anything but wash it, comb it, and brush it once it's dry; I'm just naturally blessed. Such perfection isn't for everyone. Good luck with those ladies, though!  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
* * *

**_Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland_ **   
**20 September 1983**   
**1 pm**

"All right, lunch! Half an hour, team!"

Landing well before the last word had left the coach's mouth, Chaser Christine Davenport goes and sits down at the edge of the Portree training field. Moments later, she's joined by a rather wind-swept James Potter. "Join you for lunch?"

"Of course," Christine replies, stifling a laugh because there's a tuft of hair sticking up rather prominently at the back of his head. "What've you got?"

"Chicken," says James, grabbing a paper bag and peering into it. "You?"

Christine also grabs a paper bag and looks into it. "Ham and cheese." She makes a face. "And carrots?"

"You sound surprised."

"Didn't pack it," Christine explains, pulling the little bag of carrot sticks out and beginning to much one. "Sister spent the night. Likes to be helpful."

"That sounds nice," James says, grabbing a drumstick and tearing into it. "Sirius did that for me once. Not a great success."

"Well, she puts in carrots because she's totally misguided and thinks I need to lose weight." Christine eats a few more carrot sticks. "What was wrong with Black packing your lunch, then?"

"Oh, nothing. If you don't mind eating Lucky Charms for lunch." James pauses for effect. "Dry Lucky Charms." Christine chokes on a bite of carrot. "Highly nutritious, don't you think?"

"He actually thought you'd eat dry cereal for lunch?" demands Christine, looking suspicious. "What, was it some kind of joke?"

James chuckles. "Ah, if only."

Christine looks as if she has something she'd really like to say, but offers James a carrot instead.

"Cheers," James says, taking it. "What's your sister on about, anyway? Doesn't she realise athlethes need carbs and stuff?"

"Well, Celeste is... special."

"In a carrot sort of way?"

Christine nods, looking a little thoughtful. "Yes. And in the sort of way where she thinks everyone needs to lose weight."

James looks vaguely aghast. "Everyone?"

"Well, except one," admits Christine with a shrug and a half smile.

"Who, herself?"

"No, actually. That Lucky Charm-packing roommate of yours." Pulling out her sandwich, Christine snickers. "Which is funny since she's only met him about once."

James raises an eyebrow at her. "Really? Thinks he's perfect, does she?"

"Just about," Christine nods. She makes a face. "She reads that advice column of his just about religiously."

"Oh, Merlin."

"Yeah." Christine takes a few bites of her sandwich, and then cautiously says, "Y'know, James, I've wondered for a while..."

"Hmm?" James manages in response, his mouth full of chicken.

"Why d'you do it?"

"Whdhwh?"

Christine clears her throat looking across the field at a couple of their other teammates, she asks, "Black. Why d'you live with him? He sounds kind of... useless, to me. Pretty, but not practical. Like— like a wedding dress, when you're never planning on getting married."

James makes a rather choked noise. It takes him a few seconds to swallow his mouthful, and then he says, rather disbelieving, "Did you just compare Sirius to a wedding dress?!"

"Uh, yeah, I guess I did," mutters Christine, her cheeks a little pink.

"Well..." James shakes his head. "He was cheaper than a painting and new curtains?"

Christine raises her eyebrows and casts him a dubious expression. "Yeah, but a painting doesn't make you fix it dinner, does it?"

"You'd be surprised at how bossy some portraits are."

"New curtains, then," retorts Christine, rolling her eyes and finishing her carrots.

"You reckon those would cook for me?" There's a rather cheeky grin on James's face.

Christine throws her carrot bag at him. "Never mind. You're such a prat, I'm sure you deserve him."

"Love you too, Chris."

"Shut up. I've got to finish my sandwich before—"

"You're the one doing all the talking!" James laughs, grabbing another bite of chicken.

"I'm still going to blame you if there's any of it left before we have to get back to work."

"You do that." Christine does not reply, because she has just taken two very large and un-ladylike bites of ham and cheese on wheat. "Classy, Davenport, very classy," James winks at her, finishing off his lunch and downing it all with a big gulp of water.

"Sh' uhp."

"Whatever you say."

"I'm going to tell my sister that you need to eat lots of carrots," mumbles Christine, around the last bite of her sandwich.

"You do that," James nods. "Maybe it'll improve my eyesight."

Christine looks amused. "Like anything could—" she begins, around a snicker, but is interrupted by a sharp whistle.

"Time's up!" a voice booms across the field. "Back on those brooms, people! And I wanna see some hustle."

* * *

 

 

**Wednesday, 21 September 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **What is the best advice you have ever been given?**  
 **/Curious**

Dear Curious,  
To mind my own business. I never listen to it, of course. I'm not suited to.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **My mum thinks you're really hot. Would you go out with her?**  
 **Sincerely, Melanie, aged 12**

Dear Melanie,  
aged 12, While I'm flattered that your mother has sense enough to find me attractive, I can't resist pointing out that, at twelve, you're probably closer to my age than she is, which is rather a turnoff, even if she _is_ a MILF. And I've never liked being the youngest person in a relationship, anyway.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **My parents want me to do a summer internship at the Ministry this summer, as it's my last year of school next year. I think it sounds really boring, and I'd rather spend the summer having fun with my friends. What should I do?**  
 **/Trapped**

Dear Trapped,  
No offence to your parents but damn, that's boring. Why'd they want you to go and work for the Ministry, anyway? It's dead useless, and the pay's shite. So unless you can get all of your friends to intern in the same Department, which from your description of yourself and your friends, sounds unlikely, I suggest you just tell your parents that it's your life and if they want you to be happy they won't push it. (Though if you're actually going to TELL them that, I suggest you make sure your best mate has a spare bed or couch open...)  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **What is the best part of your job? And the worst?**  
 **/Curious, again**

Dear Curious,  
again, The best part of my job is getting to hear about other people's day to day problems, which makes me realise how insignificant my own are. On the other hand, the worst part is hearing about other people's day to day problems, and wondering what kind of idiots can't figure out on their own that they shouldn't put shoe polish in their hair to make it blacker.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
Do you clean up your own mess at home? And if not, who does? And if someone else does, do you ever thank them for it?  
/Do I look like your mother?**

My Dear Roommate,  
(Actually, the note on my freshly made bed was sufficient for me to get your point, you didn't really have to write me at work.) No, you don't look like my mother, even in that lovely flowered apron of yours; Mother just made a house elf do the chores. So did I. And by the way, did you know your ears are rather pointy?  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
**Friday, 23 September 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **My ex girlfriend recently got into a catfight with my current girlfriend. Is it wrong that I was completely turned on by the whole thing?**  
 **/A male chauvinist pig?**

Dear Piggy,  
It's my considered opinion that finding catfights -- especially those involving girlfriends of any variety -- to be hot, is not wrong. Don't reckon I'd tell your girlfriend that, though. They like to ignore logic, you know.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **What is your favourite Quidditch team and why? Did you ever play?**  
 **/Wanderers fan**

Dear Wanderers fan,  
My favourite Quidditch team is the Pride of Portree. I've spent the last decade or so hearing a lot about how awesome they are, you see; in fact, my best mate Chases for them. I've never played myself, though. Didn't look good enough in the uniform at school.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **On Wednesday, there was a letter from a girl asking if you'd go out with her mother and you said no since she was too old for you. Well, I'm only 19, so well younger than you -- would you go out with me? I'm including a picture.**  
 **Kisses, Candice**

Dear Candice,  
First of all, while the picture of you _was_ very, er... nice, I'm really not sure I can get my editor to print it in the paper. She's touchy about my including soft-core porn in my column, for some reason I've never been able to understand. And on that note, even though your age is certainly more acceptable than that of anyone who is old enough to have a twelve year old daughter, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse your... highly generous... offer. It's because of our dissimilar taste in clothing. Something like that is very telling; I can see already that we'd never suit. I'm sure you'll eventually find some big-headed lad who's less picky, though. Good luck in your continued flashing!  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Is it all right to name a dog Sniddlydum? My brother says it's a stupid name and wants us to name him Otis.**  
 **/Sarah**

Dear Sarah,  
Sniddlydum? That's not a joke? Merlin's bunny slippers, have you no shame? Think of the poor mutt, living with a name like that. He'd be embarrassed to show his snout anywhere. Otis isn't much better, either, though, so your brother's wrong too. Why don't you name the dog Sirius? It's a perfectly respectable name, after all, and also the dog star!  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
Are you a good chef? Since you're not married, I mean, and that's the advice you gave bad chefs everywhere a few weeks ago. If not, how do you manage?  
/Married to a horrible cook**

Dear Married,  
Actually, I'm not a bad cook at all. But I do dislike spending time in the kitchen, so there are very few people who could attest to that fact. How do I manage? I make nice to my friends' girlfriends, and my (very few) female friends. I make VERY nice.  
Sirius  
  
---


	2. 26 September–2 October 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and Lily have lunch.

 

 

 

**Monday, 26 September 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Did no one ever tell you it's very rude to just leave people hanging?**  
 **/Padraig O'Brian**

Dear Padraig,  
Uh, yes, my mother used to tell me that all the time...?  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Mr Black,**  
 **I am a great fan of your work in the sports section of the Prophet. However, I do have one complaint to make. Whenever you review a Portree game, I feel you focus far too much on one player, and not the whole team. Their Keeper is fantastic and deserves to be discussed in greater detail.**  
 **Sincerely, M. Williamson**

Dear Williamson,  
I apologise; Portree's Keeper is, indeed, fantastic, as is the rest of the team. (When their Beaters aren't hung over, that is.) Every player on the team deserves to be mentioned in equal detail. On the other hand, not every player on the team knows where I sleep.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **When talking about all these girlfriends and girl friends who cook for you... how come you declined to mention the fantastic, amazing, totally brilliant chef you live with?**  
 **/J**

Dear James,  
Because I see you re-reading my column every morning over breakfast and I didn't want to swell your head, of course. (Besides which, your eggs are terrible... and my editor told me to stop needlessly mentioning you. She thinks you're bribing me.)  
Sirius

* * *

**Black,**  
 **Has anyone told you recently you're a disgrace to the name of wizard?**  
 **Anon.**

Anon,  
No, they haven't as a matter of fact. Actually, it's very infrequent that people say that sort of thing to me -- usually after I've done something despicable, like snore. Or not ask for seconds.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
There is this boy, let's call him Marty, who I have a huge crush on. We've been friends for ages and I don't know if he likes me back and I'm too shy to make a move. What should I do?  
/Aline, 18, Lancashire**

Dear Aline,  
Speaking as a person with rather intimate understanding of that sort of situation, I have to say that my advice would be... to jump him, of course! Or, if you're too shy to do that... get drunk and THEN jump him. (You can always blame the alcohol later, if you need to.)  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
* * *

**_London, England_ **   
**26 September 1983**   
**1.17 pm**

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Lily yells from several feet away, instead of saying hello. "Office was crazy, could not get out a minute sooner. Have you been waiting long?"

Sirius, who's already settled into their usual table at the Muggle café they like best, gets to his feet. "Not too terribly long. 'S all right. I already ordered for us, though," he declares, as she approaches to a more amiable distance. He leans in to give her a quick, sneaky kiss on the cheek, and whispers, "Lovely boots, by the way."

Lily beams at him as she settles down across from him, raising up one leg to show off her high heeled brown leather boots. "Aren't they, though?"

Sirius raises one eyebrow. "Yes, indeed. And you know they are, of course." He grins.

"Oh, _I_ do," Lily states. "Remus didn't even notice they were new."

"Cad," replies Sirius promptly, sitting back down. "But at least that means he didn't notice you'd spent money on them, right?"

"Don't worry, I told him they were on sale for two Galleons."

Abruptly, Sirius looks scandalized. Well, he would, if one could see past his snicker. "You didn't! They couldn't have been! And he believed you?"

Lily grins very widely. "He did! I think it helps that all _his_ shoes really do cost two Galleons..."

Sirius, dreadful footwear snob that he was brought up, fairly sneers at this. "The poor man," he mutters, shaking his head sadly. "Hasn't an idea the proper notions of comfort one should expect in ones shoes."

"I know, it's quite tragic," Lily agrees, straight-faced. "How was your day so far?"

"Dead bore, just like always." Sirius shrugs, but brightens as their food arrives. "And yours? What was so crazy about today?"

"Well, you know Calvin who I work with?" Lily asks, grabbing a roll from the basket placed in front of them by a waitress. "His wife is having a baby any day now, so his mind is completely set on that. We finally sent him home because he was more of a problem than he was of assistance."

"Oh dear. I can see how that would be bad," Sirius says sympathetically, wincing. He pauses, a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth, and than admits with a laugh, "Well, actually, I can't! Which is rather the point, isn't it? I'm imagining all sorts of horrid magical disasters resulting from his more pressing interest in his wife... none of the actual events involve hurricanes, do they?"

"Only by sheer luck," Lily replies. "Anyway, then my boss actually passed out in the hallway..."

Sirius thinks about this suggestion for a second. "Did he? Was a wedding dress involved?"

"What? No." Lily gives him an odd look. "Why would it be?"

"No idea," Sirius replies, shrugging again. "It came next after the hurricane."

Taking a bite of her own pasta, Lily shakes her head. "Only you, Sirius."

"Well, they're rather the same things, I guess."

"Don't ever say that to a prospective wife."

Sirius makes a face, and says nothing for a minute. Then, defensively, "I didn't say the person in the wedding dress would be like a hurricane. Just the dress itself."

"Uh-huh," Lily agrees, not really agreeing at all. "So how many marriage proposals have you gotten through that column of yours today, then?"

"Eight," says Sirius immediately, in the tone of one who has counted the number more than once. Lily just shakes her head. Since he seems to agree this is an absurd number, Sirius clarifies helpfully, "Three of them were from Not-Mum's friends."

"What is it with you and the widows, Sirius?"

"I can't help it!" protests Sirius, with a very long-suffering air.

"You just have that air about you, do you?" asks Lily, blowing him a rather over-the-top air kiss. "Any actual eligible ones?"

"Well, there were two Seventh years?" hazards Sirius, grimacing over-dramatically as he thinks. "Friends, actually. Thought they'd both marry me at the same time. Seemed to think it could be a double wedding."

"Well, that doesn't sound very legal," Lily states. "Give one of them to Jimmy?"

Sirius shakes his head mournfully. "It would never do. Apparently they picked me expressly because they knew I didn't play Quidditch. Say they hate the sport. Imagine!"

"Well... it'd be fun to watch him splutter?"

"Nah." Sirius waves a dismissive hand. Looking pleased with himself, he explains "I've already sent them both very gentle, private letters of rejection. Though, I was kind enough to confess to them that my heart belongs to another, entirely unsuitable, and I am determined to die a lonely old bachelor, so I could never have married them anyway."

Lily raises an eyebrow. "What have you not been telling me?"

"Er, that I adore you?" Sirius gives her his very best, most charmingly practiced smile.

"That doesn't work on me, mister, and you know it," Lily says firmly, pointing her fork at Sirius.

"Well, really, I haven't been hiding anything," Sirius assures her genially, turning his attention back to his lunch.

"Right, you're just not sharing."

"No idea what you're talking about." Sirius takes a large swallow of his ice water. "Don't you want to know about the other three proposals?"

"You, sir, are avoiding the question," Lily states, still waving her fork around. "You'd better buy me dessert to make up for it."

Sirius's left eyebrow lifts skeptically. "Even though I'm already buying you lunch?"

"Yep."

Sirius thinks about this for a minute. "Done." He offers her his hand to shake.

"Maintaining the mystery, eh?" Lily asks, shaking his hand.

"I like to have an aura of the unknown about me, yes," agrees Sirius with another grin. Then, catching sight of the watch on her wrist, pulls her hand a little closer to get a better look at it. "Good Merlin, is that the time?"

"No, that's the Hermès watch my parents got me when I finished Hogwarts, actually." Upon seeing Sirius's puzzled look, Lily rolls her eyes. "It's a fancy Muggle brand, Sirius, your fashion god status is slipping."

"No, I was confused why you said it wasn't the time, Lils." He sends her what might have been called a glare, from or to anyone else. "You're going to be late."

Snatching her arm back from his grip, Lily glances at her watch. "Merlin's pants and Agrippa's balls!"

"An interesting combination," muses Sirius sedately.

"I am the only useful person in the office today, they're going to blow something up unless I get back there," Lily states, standing up and gathering her belongings.

Immediately Sirius makes shooing motions with both hands. "Go, go, then, my little flower of sanity and rational thought!"

Lily is already halfway to the door. "Have a nice day at the office, dear!" she yells over the commotion. "And give Jimmy my best!" With that, she blows him another air kiss, and disappears back onto the busy London street.

* * *

 

 

 

**Wednesday, 28 September 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I recently read your reply to a young woman confused about how to share her feelings with her would-be sweetheart, and I have to say I am shocked and appalled! Alcohol and drunken consorting does not solve anything. I would recommend that the young lady sits down with her intended, perhaps over a nice cup of tea, and calmly tells him how she feels. Preferably with a chaperone in the room. Then after they're married they can involve in "jumping", as you so crudely put it. (Also, a lady should never drink more than two glasses of red with her Sunday roast.)**  
 **Sincerely, Fianna MacDoughal, 87**

Dear Ms MacDoughal,  
With all due respect, ma'am, the young woman whose letter you refer to mentioned nothing about wanting to marry the bloke she'd decided she liked... I thought, as I understood the situation at least, I was being quite helpful.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Who did you ever drunkenly jump? Do you make a habit out of it?**  
 **/Hopeful**

Dear Hopeful,  
No-one. Yet. (Do I know you?)  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I'll have you know my Eggs Benedict have won awards. There is obviously something wrong with your gob.**  
 **/James, who still knows where you sleep**

Dear James,  
They have not, there is not, and my editor says that if you send me one more letter at work and I actually reply to it in my column, she's going to either cut off my bollocks or buy a Muggle video camera and demand footage... which, by the way, if you can figure out what means and then tell me, I would appreciate it.  
Sirius, who has just realised that he also knows where _you_ sleep

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
You still have that bread basket you stole from our house last week. We're having R's parents over for dinner tomorrow and I rather need it back. Fix it. **  
**Love, L.E.**

Dearest Lils,  
Er, what if it's not, um, empty?  
Sirius, who you love so you cannot kill

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
How many of the letters you get sent at work are of a purely personal matter?  
/Amused**

Dear Amused,  
Almost all of them, apparently. Seems like it's either that sort, or ones implying that I don't know how to behave properly. I am rather confused... but at least this way I don't have to worry about taking care of an owl.  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
**Friday, 30 September 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **No, you don't know me. Do you want to know me?**  
 **Love and kisses, Hopeful**

Dear Hopeful,  
I'm not sure. There are lots of people I know who I definitely would _not_ want you to be. I think possibly I am scared of your enthusiasm.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I have to choose my OWLs for next year and I have no idea what to pick. Any suggestions?**  
 **/Sick of school**

Dear Sick of school,  
Ah, I had that problem, too. I hear that Divination is easy, if you've got a good imagination. Care of Magical Creatures is usually a fun class, if you don't mind random and unexpected near death experiences at least once a week. I took Ancient Runes, for reasons I still do not understand, and Muggle Studies, because it's easy and amusing how wrong they often are. (Not that I ended up knowing that much about Muggles. Obviously.) I hope I've been some help!  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **As a Muggle born, I thought I should inform you of what your editor means. (Hello, editor, if you're reading this!) What she meant by the video camera remark, I think, is that she'll only tolerate your talking to your boyfriend while at work if she gets something out of it. Maybe she's into that sort of stuff. Who knows. Hope that helps!**  
 **/Helene**

Dear Helene,  
Um. Wow. I really hope you misunderstood her? I think I need to have a talk with my editor now. And, er, thank you?  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Can you pass this on to James Potter for me? Cheers.**  
 **/Prides fan**

Dear Prides fan,  
Fan mail to my roommate should be directed to the Pride of Portee administrative office. I am not his owl. (He doesn't feed me enough for that.) And his arms aren't all that buff, anyway. Don't know what you're so excited about.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
Which Quidditch game of the season are you most looking forward to?  
/Jake**

Dear Jake,  
I'm quite excited to see Portree take on Wigtown, actually. There's a bit of history between some of the Chasers that makes them especially fun to watch.  
Sirius  
  
---


	3. 3–9 October 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius's editor Thora and her assistant Adelaide gossip about the boys.

**_The Evening Prophet Offices_ **   
**London, England**   
**3 October 1983**   
**2.37 pm**

"I have Black's column for today," announces Adelaide dramatically, sailing into the editor's office. She slaps a roll of parchment onto the large desk, almost knocking aside the little plaque that reads 'T.E. Gale'. "It's all proofed and everything."

Ms Gale looks up, an expression of surprise crossing her face, settling into a look of deep astonishment after a glance at her clock. "Already?" she questions, reaching for the parchment. "And why're you the one bringing it to me? Don't we have pages for that?"

"Pretty amazing, isn't it? The poor boy was working on it like a fury before he took lunch." Adelaide grins. "He sent it in with me because he says he can't bear to see me looking so bored. And he wanted you to read it straightaway."

The editor looks at the clock again. "But I only just sent him that note giving him permission to include Potter's letter. How could he possibly —"

Still grinning, Addy props her hip on the desk edge and crosses her arms. "Well, that's it, isn't it," she says brightly, with a nod to the parchment. "He wants to continue his argument with his roommate."

Ms Gale, busy reading the column, says nothing.

"Really, Thora," Addy goes on idly. "It makes one wonder if they even _talk_ at home."

Looking up from the letters, Ms Gale snorts gently. Finished, she sets aside the scroll. "Of course they don't talk. They've _better_ things to do, dear," she adds suggestively.

"You can't really be serious, Thora," Addy complains, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure they don't do anything like _that_. They don't have that kind of relationship, you can tell."

Ms Gale looks amused. "What you can tell, Addy, is that Black desperately wishes they _did_."

A petulant expression appears on Addy's face. "Sirius isn't like that."

"Sirius Black," Thora assures her, not unkindly, "is so like that, he's flaming."

Addy pouts. She does not do it especially gracefully, but somehow she still manages to look adorably disgruntled.

Thora smiles. "Anyway, he's too pretty not to be."

"But he's had all those girlfriends!" protests Addy.

"All of _what_ girlfriends?" questions Thora curiously. Being a boss apparently doesn't stop a healthy interest in the life of an attractive, charming young man.

Addy waves a hand dismissively. "He was babbling about his sordid past the other day."

" _Was_ it sordid?"

"To hear him tell it, it was," says Addy, a trifle wistfully. "I think he's had more dates than I've had menstrual cycles."

"He's younger than we are," Thora points out. The cattishness of the remark is offset by the affection with which she says it.

"I _know_."

"And you don't wonder why he hasn't kept any of them?" asks Thora, leadingly. She crosses her arms, mimicking Addy's pose.

Addy glares a little into the middle distance. "I think Potter ran them off," she admits, grumpily. "Apparently he never likes them — which is ridiculous, since it sounds like _his_ girls are always much worse."

Thora looks very smug.

"See?" she says. "Flaming. He even adds flaming undertones to his old stories. He even makes _Potter_ sound queer."

The two women consider this statement in silence for a few minutes.

Thora glances at the parchment on her desk, covered in Sirius's oddly loopy and slanted hand-writing. "Really," she says on a sigh. "A sandwich never did sound so good."

The editor looks at Addy. Her assistant blushes and looks maybe a little guilty, but in a quiet voice she replies, "It would be quite delicious, wouldn't it?"

* * *

 

 

**Monday, 3 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **That Helene girl had the right impression. Now stop reading comic books under your desk; I can see you, you know.**  
 **Best regards, Your boss (PS: I'm letting you include this one because it's so damn hilarious.)**

Dear Boss,  
They're not comic books? And how can you see that, anyway?! Your office is on the other side of the room! And oh for the love of Merlin's moldy toenails, how could you SAY something like that to me where people I know can read it?  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **EXCUSE ME. Ladies, fans, people everywhere; do not listen to this man, he is merely jealous because I keep beating him in armwrestling games. My arms are very shapely and masculine. And also well equipped for punching roommates in the face, if they're slanderous about them in a national publication.**  
 **/James Potter, Pride of Portree Chaser**

James,  
You do not beat me in armwrestling games. We do not play armwrestling games. You only say that because you're tired of eating carpet. Also, if you're quite done bragging about yourself in _my_ column, can I just point out that if you punch me in the face, I will tie you up and drug you before your next game so that you can't play?  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Which of the Wigtown Chasers did Potter shag? The public has a right to know!  
/R.S.**

Dear R.S.,  
He didn't shag any of them. There's just some bad blood because the fellow used to throw apples at him and push him out of trees and snitch on him to his mother...  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is UP with the incessant yapping about James Potter in your column?  
/Bored**

Dear Bored,  
Your guess is as good as mine! It's not like I actually _enjoy_ talking about him all the time, or anything.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
I've just turned 18, and I want to know what to get first: a piercing, or a tattoo?  
/Kian**

Dear Kian,  
(This reply is, of course, made without knowing what you want pierced and what you want tattooed; you'd be surprised how much of a difference that could make.) For your first foray into artistic self-mutilation, I suggest a piercing. Usually they will actually close up over time and leave only a tiny scar, making them rather less permanent than tattoos, so that if you decide such a look is not for you, you can get out of it. Sort of. Besides, there's more room on the human body to pierce things than there is to tattoo.  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 5 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Whoever thought it would be a good idea to let you have your own column, again? The world has gone insane.**  
 **/R.L.**

Dear R.L.,  
You're not sneaky. You're just jealous.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I hate my new stepfather. He snores so loudly I can hear him through the walls and his son is a toerag and now I have to live with them! What should I do?**  
 **/Lost**

Dear Lost,  
My best advice would be to steal whatever pair of earplugs your mother has been using to survive; even if that doesn't convince her to kick your stepfather out, at least it will let you sleep at night. As for the toerag son, I recommend thumbscrews.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I think you should tie James Potter up. But only if you follow Ms. Editor's video camera rule. Now there's a sandwich I wouldn't mind being the filling in, if you get my point.**  
 **/ _Full name and address withheld by the Evening Prophet_**

Dear Filling,  
I am appalled at the lack of morality in the youth of today's society. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **My little brother is such a nuisance! He's always stealing my things and ratting me out to our parents. What should I do?**  
 **/Llewellyn**

Dear Llewellyn,  
Instead of getting angry at your brother, I suggest that each time he does something you really, really don't like, you take a minute and stop to think how you'd feel if something tragic happened to him. Wouldn't you rather he be a nuisance than no longer there at all?  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
Hippogriffs or thestrals?  
/Anna**

Dear Anna,  
Er, for what? Probably hippogriffs because believe it or not they scare less people. No, thestrals, they scare more people. No! Hippogriffs! They're prettier.  
Sirius  
PS: You weren't asking because you're trying to figure out what kind of pet to get, or anything, were you?  
  
---  
  
**Friday, 7 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **What is your favourite word?  
/** **Katie**

Dear Katie,  
Antidisestablishmentarianism! No, seriously, that one's just funny to use because it is long and I generally get strange looks for it. Since I won't say my favourite word is 'extemporaneous,' I suppose I have to admit that I'm actually rather partial to the word 'tryst.' It sounds misleadingly innocent, I think.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I'm about to start my third year at Hogwarts. What classes would you recommend I choose?**  
 **/Indecisive Hufflepuff**

Dear Indecisive,  
I had a similar question not that long ago from someone worry about which OWLs to take (I didn't take my answer seriously, of course, because I don't take the OWLs seriously), and to save time because as my roommate could tell you I'm _painfully_ lazy, I'll tell you pretty much what I said that... Divination is usually easy, though I might steer clear of it if I were you, as it sometimes makes people start seeing things. Care of Magical Creatures is usually a fun class, if you don't mind random and unexpected near death experiences at least once a week, and I hear the OWL is interesting, too...for different reasons. I myself took the horrendously difficult Ancient Runes, for reasons I still refuse to honestly disclose, and Muggle Studies, because there's no better way to misinform yourself. Good luck with whatever you chose!  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Last week I was out with my mates and we got very drunk. In the course of less than an hour, my friend Jack ended up falling down a flight of stairs, grabbing his own sister's arse, snogging a (female) bartender who was old enough to be his mother, and then puking all over the girl he's fancied for months. It was all pretty hilarious. What's your best drunken story?**  
 **/L**

Dear L,  
I have quite a few, actually. The only one I feel safe mentioning here, without checking with my mates first (they'd all be likely to kill me, otherwise), is the time in my seventh year at Hogwarts when I sneaked down to Hogsmeade (completely by myself and without _any_ help, instigation, or accompaniment by any of my Housemates, naturally) to get smashed, and on the way back to my dorm (keep in mind here that I was a Gryffindor, of course), I ran into Professor McGonagall — Hullo, Minnie! — and for some reason managed to get out of detention... by proposing marriage. At least, I _think_ that's what I proposed. Regardless, I didn't have to do any detention even though I lost 50 points, and those Housemates of mine that definitely didn't sneak out with me (and who were very much _not_ trashed and throwing up in the middle of the corridor in front of the staff room when our Head came by) got a very, very good laugh.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **If you could have any other job besides the one you have, what would it be?**  
 **/Karen**

Dear Karen,  
Well, I've always thought it would be fun to be a cat burglar art thief, mostly for the leather catsuit I would feel compelled to wear while working. And the mask, too, of course. Alternately, being a trophy spouse sounds like a good deal. I could definitely deal with champagne and bonbons for breakfast, lunch, and dinner... which is what I'd do as a trophy spouse. Of course.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
What's the one thing that Muggles have that we don't have that you're jealous of?  
/Simon**

Dear Simon,  
Michel Platini.  
Sirius  
  
---


	4. 10–16 October 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and James talk about McGonagall writing in to Sirius's column.

 

 

 

**Monday, 10 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Really, why did you take Ancient Runes?**  
 **/Camille**

Dear Camille,  
Trust me. You don't want to know. Besides, I solemnly swore I would never bring it up again. So I don't ever talk about it. Ever. Of course. And I never make references to it, either. Ever. Of course.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **You, sir, are a big fat liar. Like you could sneak down to Hogsmeade unaided. But I'm sure none of your mates were sick in the corridor. Liar.**  
 **/Someone who definitely has never thrown up in front of Minerva McGonagall**

Dear Liar,  
Hmph. I could too sneak down to Hogsmeade by myself. Easily. And if you're who I think you are (and you probably are), then you have TOO thrown up in front of Minerva McGonagall. Just because she couldn't see you doesn't mean you didn't do it.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Admit it, you just want to wear kinky leather wear to work. Not that you don't already. I've seen your laundry.**  
 **/Anon**

Dear Anon who really should stop sending me mail before he gets me FIRED,  
The leather articles I wear to work are not KINKY. They are a FANTASTIC blend of the FASHIONABLE and the FUNCTIONAL. None of those even sound remotely like KINKY. (Do I want to know what you're really thinking when you get that look on your face when you offer to do my laundry for me? I think I may cry the next time I see it.) And anyway, it's for my bike. Obviously.  
Sirius.

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **What's a normal day at work like for you? I've been thinking of going into journalism myself.**  
 **/Anne**

Dear Anne,  
A normal day at work is actually, for me, quite relaxing and enjoyable. Fortunately for me, journalism usually doesn't require much cerebral exertion, so even though my dragon of an editor — she's such a meanie! — doesn't actually let me _nap_ at work, I can still catch up on all the rest I miss out on at night. (I recommend this job to anyone who is trying to convince their parents/family that they are _not_ actually night owls.) On a day when I don't have a game review or something of that nature to write, which is usually, I come in around 9am, read a few letters and set aside the ones I'm going to answer that day, take a lunch break around noon, come back to work at 2pm, answer the letters I set aside earlier, fiddle at my desk for awhile (magazines make this part bearable), and then go home around 4pm to see what my roommate has decided we're going to have for dinner. A fine job, really.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
Michel Platini looks like a walking turd. And he's completely untalented, too. They only use one ball at a time. Please. How hard can it be? And he has stupid hair, too.  
/A better athlete than Michel Platini**

Dear Athlete,  
Well, that was needlessly spiteful, wasn't it. First of all, the fact he may or may not look like a walking turd has nothing to do with anything. Secondly, flying around on a broomstick all day requires a lot less physical exertion than _running_ around a field, though, don't you think? And controlling a ball with your _feet_ at the same time, no less. I'd like to see you do the same thing!  
Sirius  
PS: YOU have stupid hair. So there.  
  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 12 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I suggest you take all these discussions with your roommate somewhere less public. Preferably somewhere that doesn't pay you.**  
 **/Your boss PS: You take two hours off for lunch?!**

My dearest, most wonderful boss,  
But half the reason you pay me is because of my discussions with my roommate! In fact, sometimes, I think you ought to pay him, too. He'd like that; maybe it would make his spelling improve.  
Sirius  
PS: Of course I do. You told me I could. Remember?

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I am Muggle-born and I am too a big fan of Michel Platini. Are you single? Because I am.**  
 **/Melinda**

Dear Melinda,  
Yes, I'm single, quite single. I also enjoy attending football matches with people who don't spend the whole time complaining sotto voce about the paltry number of balls used in play.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Mr Black,**  
 **Glad to see you are working hard and that your education has not gone to waste. Additionally, perhaps we could look into detention in arrears for you and Mr Potter.**  
 **Sincerely, M. McGonagall**

Dear Professor, Minnie!  
Responding to my column! I never thought I'd see the day! This is just wonderful! How are you? And your cat? Keeping well I trust. I owe all my motivation and ambition to you, you know, you've just been such a wonderful inspiration to me over the years. Well, you and ol' Albie. Why, you're what lead me to want a job in journalism!  
Sirius  
PS: ... giving detentions like that isn't REALLY possible, is it?

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Tell me about your bike!!**  
 **/Jon**

Dear Jon,  
She's really quite a sweet little creature, all black and chrome. Satisfyingly loud, too. I've named her Mathilda Ermyntrude. I can be seen riding her down the high street in my town every morning at precisely 7:07.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
From what I understand, your roommate cooks and does the washing. Do you do any housework at all? How did you decide who does what? My roommate is soooo lazy and never does anything and it's driving me mad.  
/Christina**

Dear Christina,  
The sad fact of the matter is that James only does everything because I'm hopeless... or maybe it's because I'm so gosh-darn cute. I'm never sure. But he DOES do all of it, except occasionally the shopping, which I am very good at. So naturally I have no advice on how to force recalcitrant roommates to do their share of the housework. You'd be better off asking him.  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter_ **   
**12 October 1983**   
**4.18 pm**

The front door bangs as Sirius opens it, being careless again, and the sound hasn't even faded when he loudly calls, "Honeyyyyyyy, I'm hooooooooooome!" Accompanying this facetious declaration is the sound of his motorcycle boots thudding against the floor as he takes them off.

"Watch the plaster work!" comes James's reply from the living room.

Sirius ignores this, and slams the door more forcefully than necessary as he bounds into the living room, leather jacket unzipped and only on one arm as the other waves a paper around. "Guess what, you slob!" Sirius's grin is a combination of excitement and amusement.

"We need new hinges for the front door?" James asks. He's seated on the sofa, trainer-clad feet resting carelessly on top of the coffee table, wearing a pair of maroon Muggle tracksuit bottoms and a bright red t-shirt. His eyes are closed, his hair rather messier than normal, and his cheeks bright pink.

"No." Still grinning, Sirius drops onto the sofa next to James, with a slight, helpless sigh for the poor colour coordination, and slaps the paper to athlete's chest. "It's about the paper, stinky. Turn your brain back on, yeah?"

"Too tired." Yawning, James opens one eye to regard his best friend. "What about the paper?"

"You'll never guess who wrote in!" cries Sirius. He is now bouncing slightly, his legs drawn up beneath him so that he's effectively crouched on the sofa cushion.

"Michel Platini?" James's voice is rather dripping with sarcasm.

"Michel's a Muggle," Sirius shoots back, with nary a break in his enthusiasm. "No, no, it's better than that!"

James sits up a bit straighter. "It's not Catriona McCormack, is it?"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Why would she write in, eh? No, it's better!"

"Better?" James asks, not sounding very convinced. Sitting up even straighter, he grabs the newspaper and starts flicking through it. "What page is your column on again?"

"As if you didn't know." Sirius is bouncing even more.

James ignores this remark, resolutely opening the paper on page 24. His eyes widen rather comically. "You're shitting me!"

"I know!" Sirius exclaims, sticking his head around the paper to look at it as well, like he wants to make sure the letter in question hasn't disappeared. "Isn't it unbelievable?"

Still staring at that letter, James shakes his head. "I would never have pegged her as someone who reads this sort of thing!"

Sirius nods. "Me either. I always reckoned it'd be more Dumbley's cup of tea — but there, she's the one who wrote in!"

Chuckling, James reads it again. "... they can't really do that, can they?"

"Fuck, I hope not," and Sirius begins snickering. "I'd have to ask for time off work just to fit them all in!"

"Maybe she's forgotten she made me Head Boy."

Sirius gives him an amused look. "No, she didn't."

"She did too," James argues without much fervor.

"And here I thought it was Albie who lost his mind and did that. I've been laboring under a misapprehension this whole time!"

James kicks him in the shin. Sirius grabs the paper and smacks him about the head with it. James retorts with an elbow to the side. "Actually, it was probably a joint decision to see if I'd lose my brain being Head Boy and Quidditch captain at the same time..."

"What tripe. They knew you'd cope." Sirius pauses to draw himself up and look haughty. "You had me to assist you with keeping your brain, after all!"

"Uh-huh."

Sirius fortunately misses, or ignores, the irony of this exchange, and turns his attention back to the paper. "... I would love to have seen her face, you know."

"When?"

Impatiently, Sirius prods James's chest with one finger. "When she read Monday's, of course, since it must be why she wrote in."

James grins at him. "So what you're saying is that it was my doing?"

"... Okay, so maybe on Friday," Sirius allows, with a tiny huff. "I'm sure it can't have had anything to do with you hogging my time."

"You and your editor should just admit to yourselves that I am what makes your column a hit."

"No, you're not." Sirius shakes his head decisively. He leans back toward the armrest behind him, uncoiling his legs from beneath him to throw them across James's lap.

James shoves rather uselessly at them. "I was just about to go take a shower!"

Sirius smirks. "Oh, that's okay, I don't mind getting dirty," he says politely.

"Sirius, you were born dirty."

"Collateral damage?" Sirius's brow quirks. "Anyway. You're not the reason I'm a hit — my responses to you are!"

Winking at him, James says, "And would you be writing those if it weren't for me?"

Sirius thinks about this, is unable to come up with a satisfactory answer, and uses his heel to kick James in the hip.

"Ow!" Shoving at Sirius's legs again, James states, "Face it, Black, you need me."

"Desperately," rolling his eyes. "My career and I would die without you."

"Jest all you want, but deep down you know it's true."

"I don't know anything," retorts Sirius airily. "And did you know that you reek, caveman?" James's response is to lift his arm up and shove his armpit into Sirius's face. "Ack!" gags Sirius, jerking away and throwing a punch at James's shoulder. "Chemical warfare! Violation of the Genevieve Convention!!"

"It's Geneve, Sirius," James says, rolling his eyes. "And you're the one keeping me from getting in the shower!"

"What, you're saying you couldn't remove my legs if you wanted to? Are they really that heavy? Perhaps I should start dieting..."

"Somehow I doubt you're carrying a lot of fat in your lower legs."

"Oh, so I've got skinny calves, have I?" huffs Sirius, feigning indignation.

"Balances that fat head of yours nicely." James shoves at his legs again. "Off." Grumbling, Sirius shifts his legs to the coffee table. "Thank you kindly," James says as he stands up.

Sirius waits a moment, and then asks, with the aid of his second-best puppy dog eyes, "What's for dinner?"

James, halfway to the stairs, replies by throwing his t-shirt at him. Sirius's shriek of grossed-out indignation as it hit his head could probably be heard by everyone in the county. "Stop being such a girl," James calls from upstairs. "And there's chicken in the fridge; make yourself useful and heat up the oven while I freshen up, would you?"

"What if I forgot how to turn the oven on?" Sirius yells back innocently.

"Then read the manual!"

"...where's that?"

James is apparently choosing to ignore this, as a second later, the sound of running water can be heard. Muttering, Sirius heads for the kitchen.

* * *

 

 

 

**Friday, 14 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I think your column is hilarious. How did it start out?**  
 **/Emily**

Dear Emily,  
Well, originally, as I'm sure you know, I was just a poor old sports journalist, toiling away, day in and day out, writing refreshingly original articles about all those Quidditch matches and things going around, and then one day I got bored and started reading the owls people had sent me, and was surprised to find quite a number asking me questions about things unrelated to sports. (Imagine that; seems my references to my amazing all-around knowledge had actually been taken with a degree of credibility with some people!) So, since I really was quite bored that day, I jokingly wrote out answers to them, which I asked my editor if we could include. Naturally my editor, also thinking it would be a great joke, agreed. Then more people wrote in, wanting their questions answered, which I did, and the next thing I know, I've got an honest-to-goodness (I hesitate to say "legitimate," having of course an intimate knowledge of what I say to people) advice column. This, though, does not explain why you find it hilarious. I'm going to assume, for my own piece of mind, that I'm just that charming.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I'll have you know there's nothing wrong with my spelling, thank you very much. And to your lovely reader Christina: I have no idea. If you find anything that works, let me know. (Although he does mow the lawn.)**  
 **/J.P.**  
 **PS: Wasn't me, Professor M, I promise. I was Head Boy, remember? Set a good example and all that.**

_A Message from Mr Black's Editor:_

_The following response to the letter from one "J.P." — being rightly understood to have come from Mr Black's roommate, and both occupants of that household having been previously warned that this newspaper's purpose is not to provide public forum for their interactions — is being included at my lenience, which ought not to be pressed, should I cease to find their interactions entertaining to our consumers... and also because J.P. addresses not only Mr Black but another contributing reader._

Dear J.P.,  
You're not fooling anyone, you know, m'dear. Minnie's never going to believe you. And it's not as if your reputation's in danger, or anything, since you don't have one. (Though, it was nice of you to admit I mow the lawn; I wouldn't have expected you'd remember, since you're always complaining I do nothing.) Oh, and stop bragging in my column, would you?  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Does quite single mean single as in single? 'Cause if it does I think we should go out. We can talk lots about Michel and his hair! Do you get free tickets to football games, being a sports journalist? I can't wait for our first date!!**  
 **Love, Melinda**

Dear Melinda,  
As far as I'm aware, I don't get free tickets for football games, as I don't have to review them because that's a Muggle sport and apparently the readership for that kind of thing is regrettably low-grade and I absolutely should not get my hopes up that the editors will change their mind because it will _not_ happen no matter how many times a day I ask. Or something to that effect. Unfortunately, I really don't know if I should go out with some just because we have a mutual appreciation for a specific Muggle athlete. I will consider it.  
Sirius  
PS: I don't suppose you're also a Quidditch fan? I do get free tickets to most matches, see, and I wouldn't mind having someone to enjoy, say, a Portree game with me...

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **What is the most useful thing you ever learnt at school? What about the most useful thing you ever learnt out of school? And the most useless, for both of those?**  
 **/Kenneth**

Dear Kenneth,  
The most useful thing I learned in school was that I should probably be classified as hardheaded and reckless, because I generally do not listen, even though I know I really should, at such times as when my Transfiguration teacher says something is very difficult, would take a very long time and is probably not safe besides; which is useful because knowing it prevents anger when other people say the same thing about me. The most useless thing, I'm sure you'll all be surprised to know, had nothing to do with goblin rebellions, but was actually a complex theorem for "speed" runic translations. (As if; they invariably took twice as long when going on according to the theorem.) As for out of school, I was quite grateful to learn that sweet little ladies of a certain age respond well to bribery of the compliments-consideration-and-attention variety and will therefore be most amenable to defending you to their son—I mean, your friends; whereas, I really feel that knowing how to put petrol in a motorbike is a complete waste of time and energy, and I wonder why I bothered.  
Sirius  
PS: Also, a very useful fact which I actually have proof of from both in and out of school, is that contrary to apparently popular belief, if you throw in apple straight up in the air, it will NOT land on your head... but probably the head sitting next to you. (Sorry, Lils.)

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
How tall are you? I have a bet going with my mates. One says you're 5'8" and the other that you're 6'6". My bet is 5'11". Please say I'm right as I really need the money!  
/P**

Dear P, Merlin! 6'6"? What kind of goliath does your mate think I am? All my delicate, gentle-man feelings are offended. And on that note, I'm afraid you're all wrong, being that I am, in fact, six-feet-three-and-three-quarter-inches. As you've all lost, feel free to send the winnings to me! Kidding, of course, but I actually feel that, since you've all lost and you were the one they made write in, you ought to get that money. Especially since you need it. Devilish awful, being in need of money.  
Sirius  
  
---


	5. 17–23 October 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Sirius visit Mrs Potter.

 

 

 

**Monday, 17 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I'm not really that into Quidditch but I'll make an exception for you!! When do you want to meet up? Oh this is so exciting!!**  
 **Love and kisses Melinda xxxxxxxxxxxx**

Dear Melinda,  
Not... into Quidditch? Not even all the buff Quidditch stars with the stupi—nice hair? Oh. Well. All right. Can't hurt... There's the Pride vs. Harpies game weekend after next.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Should I cut my hair or leave it the way it is?**  
 **/Goldielocks**

Dear Goldielocks,  
Golly, it looks as if you've never cut your hair in your life! Not to be your Delilah here, or anything, but all of that hair really kind of takes away attention from your face, which isn't at all bad-looking, so I recommend you get it at least trimmed a bit. You know, maybe six inches, or so.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Are you lying to your readers again? Last time I checked you were 6'2". Don't tell me you grew two inches in a week.**  
 **Love, Lily**  
 **PS: I am still waiting for that bread basket.**

Dearest Lils,  
I do not lie to my readers! For shame suggesting such a thing. Who did you check with, anyway? Remus? You know he's always found my extreme height unsettling, so you can't expect him to tell the truth. Whoever you asked was probably just using a very unliberal measuring tape. And, er, about that bread basket... we need to talk. Without James.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Do you read? If so, what is your favourite book?**  
 **/Hamish**

Dear Hamish,  
Well, I _can_ read. Obviously. Don't usually do so, though, unless I need to; for instance, I read all the time when I was in school, researching pranks and things. At the moment I'd have to say my favourite frivolous book is actually a series— the Simon Templar mystery novels, by Leslie Charteris.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
Where, exactly, do you live?  
/Not a stalker**

Dear Stalker,  
In the same house as James Potter. (He has buff arms and hexes people who lurk outside our house. So you know.) Why do you ask?  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 19 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Wellllll I just think Quidditch is kind of a sissy game, you know? I mean, how hard can it be? It's not like footie that takes actual stamina. But I will go to that game with you!! Oh I am so excited, I have cut all of my letters and your replies out and put them in a book so we can remember this forever. When do you want to pick me up?**  
 **Your Melinda xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Dear Melinda,  
Ouch. Oh, dear. I'm going to feel that one when I get home tonight. Um, I don't suppose we could meet outside the pitch? I'm actually going to be a bit pressed for time before the match, as I've an interview I'm supposed to do just after it.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Who is this Lily who keeps writing in? She's not your girlfriend, is she? I thought you said you were single.**  
 **/An admirer**

Dear Admirer,  
(This is the part where Remus kills me if I answer incorrectly, so though I'm highly tempted...) No, Lily isn't my girlfriend; she's the girlfriend of a mate of mine. She's quite a dear, bless her little heart... if a bit mother-y. Excellent cook, though.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **What's the best thing about being part of a really old wizarding family? And the worst?**  
 **/H. Mountbatten**

Dear Mountbatten, I  
'd have to say that the best part is never getting called Mudblood, even by the really stupid people. Or, I suppose, in my case, having a surname you can use to terrify people. The worst thing is being related to all the elitist, cold-hearted blood supremacists. Or, in my case, my mother. (Hullo, Mummy Dearest! Enjoy getting mentioned in this sort of pedestrian publication?)  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Have you ever considered going into modelling?**  
 **/Cara**

Dear Cara,  
Modelling, you say? An interesting suggestion, though it would require letting people take my picture frequently. Do you reckon I've got the bone structure for it?  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
I am writing in response to the person who asked where you live. I am pretty sure you live in Kentish Town, on a street off the high street, in that house with the green door. Third floor flat. You know which one I mean. I'm right, aren't I? (I live six doors down -- feel free to swing by and say hi!)  
Love, Charlene**

Dear Charlene,  
I'm sorry. That was an interesting guess, but no, I don't live anywhere near Kentish Town or its high street. I'm curious as to why you'd think I do, however... Who does live in the third floor flat of the house with the green door on a street off the high street in Kentish Town? Anyone?  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
**Friday, 21 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius (and reader Charlene),**  
 **I don't know about any green doors, but Stubby Boardman of the Hobgoblins lives in Kentish Town. Just so you know!**  
 **/Adam**

Dear Adam,  
Thank you, sir, for your information. I say, though, Stubby Boardman! Why, look at that, Charlene, he has the same initials as I do! I wonder if we're, in fact, the same person?  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **Okay, we can meet outside the pitch!! How will we recognise each other? I'll be wearing bright pink robes and a pink carnation in my hair. Oh, are you interviewing a biq Quidditch star? So exciting!!**  
 **Always yours, Melinda xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

Dear Melinda,  
Don't worry about recognising each other, I'll find you; I don't think I'll have any trouble. And yes, I am, though he's not really all that big a star. He's one of my favourites, though.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **You live in Scotland, right? Since your roommate plays for the Prides. I've seen him in Glasgow a few times.**  
 **/Karl**

Dear Karl, Gracious, but my readers are wrong again! While it's true that my roommate plays for the Prides and he has, necessarily been in Glasgow a time or two, that is not, in fact, where we live. I'm trying to decide if it's a closer guess than Kentish Town.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,**  
 **I do in fact thing you have the bone structure for modelling! I happen to be a modelling agent. What are your feelings on partial and/or full frontal nudity?**  
 **/Cara**

Dear Cara,  
Oh, I see! You just want to know if I'll take my clothes off in front of a camera, don't you? Unfortunately, my great natural modesty would prevent it.  
Sirius

* * *

**Dear Sirius,  
Out of everything you've written, which article has been your favourite and why?  
/W.N.**

Dear W.N.,  
Unquestionably, the first one I ever wrote on a Pride of Portree game... which just happened to be my roommate's first ever professional match once he got off the reserves.  
Sirius  
  
---  
  
* * *

_**Imogen Potter's Residence** _   
**Minehead, Somerset**   
**23 October 1983**   
**1.14 pm**

Climbing out of the fireplace in a light, airy living room, James yells, "Mum! We're here!"

Imogen Potter, a short-ish woman in neat blue robes and a ridiculously bright pink flower apron, hurries into the room in response to his shout. Head cocked slightly to one side, she smiles at her son. "I only see one of you, dear."

Bending down to give his mother a kiss, James shakes his head. "You know how he is. He'll be here in a second. You all right?"

"I'm sure I'd be better if I saw the two of you more often, but as it is, I'm surviving," she says teasingly, instinctively reaching up to pat ineffectually at James's messy hair, which looks remarkably like her own white pixie-cut hair. "Barely."

"You saw us just last week," James protests.

"Seven days!" retorts Imogen, looking forlorn.

Sirius stumbles out of the fireplace, knocking over a near-by end table in the process. "Always have to enter with a bang, eh, Sirius?" asks James, without turning around. Sirius is busy sitting on the floor and swearing under his breath. He glares at James's back.

"Well, if Not-Mum would just get a fireplace that I fit in, this would not be a problem and I'd be much less dramatic," he grumbles, dusting ash out of his hair. "Oh, and, er, hello Not-Mum you look lovely do I smell pie?"

James looks at his mother. "Remind me why you feed this noggerhead again?"

"Because I'm better looking than her son is, of course," replies Sirius, with a charming smile, as he gets to his feet and comes over to kiss Imogen as well. "Aren't I, Not-Mum?"

"Now, now, Sirius, you know how sensitive this nipper here is," Imogen replies. "You're both very handsome young men." She pokes a finger into Sirius's ribs. "Even if you could use a bit o' fattening up."

Sirius gives James a sideways glance. "Have I told you lately that I love your mother? She makes me feel skinny while she feeds me."

"Why, do you usually feel like a great big dollop of fat?"

"Yes." Sirius turns a rather ridiculously wide smile on Imogen, who appears rather amused by his exchange with James. "Now then. You didn't answer my question about the pie."

"What do you think, my love?" Imogen replies, smiling widely at him.

Sirius's face lights up. "I get pie!"

James shakes his head. "Like a child, that one..."

"Yes, but he's quite cute," replies Imogen laughingly, reaching up — definitely up — to pat Sirius's cheek affectionately. "It's on the counter, Sirius."

"You'll spoil your appetite!" James yells after his retreating back.

Imogen arches her eyebrows, also watching Sirius practically flee into the kitchen. "Can he do that?" she asks.

"Good point."

"It's cherry!" Sirius crows from the kitchen, having found the pie and obviously delighted; his voice sounds slightly muffled, as if he has something in his mouth.

The look on James's face is somewhere in between amused and disgusted. "You're a pig, you know that?"

"Your mother's an angel!" is the reply, very obviously spoken through a mouthful of pie. "D'you reckon she'd marry me?"

Eyes on her son, Imogen stifles a laugh in her apron. "Do you reckon I'd let you?" yells James.

"Don't see what you'd have to do with it." Sirius's head pops back into the room, crumbs around his mouth and sticky red pie filing at the edge of his lip. One of his arms is also visible, the hand clutching a fork with pie still on the tines. "Seems to me it'd be up to her."

"She's way too good for you, you slob."

"Be nice!" objects Imogen, emerging from her apron with a final, almost girlish giggle. She tries to look stern, but the attempt is rather spoiled by the way her eyes are dancing. "That's quite enough from both o' you."

Placing his hands on his mother's shoulders, James protests, "I've got to defend your honour, don't I?"

"From Sirius?" she demands pointedly, her tone suggesting that James might be better served defending her honour from marauding kittens.

"Don't let those puppy dog eyes fool ye."

Said puppy dog eyes immediately get wider and more pitiful as Sirius pouts. "You're turning Not-Mum against me!"

"Like I could," James replies.

"Hm. She _does_ like me better..."

"Mum!" James complains.

"What?" demands Imogen, wide-eyed. She looks like maybe she wants to laugh into her apron some more. "You don't really expect me to actually say anything to that, do you?"

"Need I remind you that I am your only son?" James asks, pouting in a rather ridiculously overdone way. "The sole perfect fruit of your loins, and all that?"

"She's refusing to say anything because it would incriminate her!" announces Sirius, right before his head disappears again.

"Shut up and eat your pie!" James yells at him.

"Mumfph!"

Chuckling, James turns to face his mother again. "Need any help around the house?"

"Not unless you'd really like to fold my laundry..." James makes a face. "Yes, I'd thought not," murmurs his mother smilingly. "How about we save some of that pie from Sirius, to eat later, then?"

"Good luck on that one," he winks at her. "Oy, Si!"

"Y'argh?" yells Sirius, voice once more thoroughly distorted by pie.

"Leave some pie for us, would you?"

"... Er."

Imogen's eyebrows rise at Sirius's guilty tone. "Don't tell me you gulched it all down, you prat!" James yells, stalking over to the kitchen.

"All right, I won't," Sirius replies, hiding the pie pan behind him as James comes into view.

James looks rather reproachful. "You'd think you hadn't eaten in days, you mumper."

Sirius's eyes widen dramatically. "You mean you've actually fed me this week?"

Raising an eyebrow, James states, "I did not know that was my job."

"Of course it's your job," retorts Sirius huffily, still holding the pie pan out of sight. "Everyone is responsible for the care and feeding of their own pets, you should know that. Didn't Not-Mum raise you better than to shirk your duties? Tsk, tsk."

"My what, now?"

"Er, duties?" with an innocent smile, deliberately misunderstanding him.

"Mum!" James shouts, turning around to face the door. "Sirius is being a knobhead!"

"James Potter, you watch your language in my house!" reproves Imogen, entering the room with a stern frown and twinkling eyes that indicate she's probably been listening to the entire conversation.

"Yes, watch your language," Sirius agrees haughtily. "'Cause I'm not being a bloody knobhead."

James kicks him in the shin. "Sorry, mum." Sirius retaliates by punching his shoulder. "Bully!" James exclaims, leaning over to throw an arm around Sirius's neck, giving him a rather painful looking noogie.

"Jimmy, you great prat!" protests Sirius, muffled by James's arm, and struggling one-handedly to free himself. "You'll make me drop the pie!"

"Don't call me that!" James protests, rubbing his knuckles even harder into Sirius's scalp.

"Bugger this—" Sirius gives up wrenching at the arm around his neck, and with the arm not attached to the hand with the pie in it, elbows James soundly in the ribs.

"Oooooooooow!"

"Enough, boys!" bellows Imogen in exasperation, somehow inserting her tiny presence between the fighting young men, without actually moving. "No brawling in the kitchen!"

"He started it," James protests.

Sirius looks like he's considering throwing the pie — there's about half of it left — at James's head. James, turning to look at his mother, pouts in what's probably supposed to be a pitiful way.

"Really, boys," admonishes Imogen, with a sigh. "Do you carry on like this at home?"

"Yes."

"All the time," adds Sirius, reluctantly putting the pie back on the counter, which requires a certain amount of wiggling.

Imogen shakes her head, apparently amazed that they're both still alive.

"What's for dinner?" James asks, still holding Sirius in a headlock, bending over slightly as a reaction to the elbow to his ribs. Of necessity bent over even farther than James, Sirius manages to nod. "Yeah, what's for dinner? I'm starving."

"You just ate half a pie!"

"Only half!"

Ignoring their squabbling, Imogen asks, "How does chicken sound to you?"

"I like chicken," Sirius declares, surreptitiously stomping on James's foot.

"Watch it, you pillock, I have a game next week!" James protests.

Sirius tries to head-butt him. "You started it."

"Mummy, save me!" James yells, giving his mother his best puppy dog eyes.

"Boys!" is Imogen's stern response.


	6. 24–30 October 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Sirius have a quiet night in. Exploding Snap is attempted.

**Monday, 24 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I can't see why you would live in Glasgow when your roommate plays for a team on the Isle of Skye? I bet you live out here on the island. Right? /R** Dear R, We live on an island, yes. It isn't, however, the Isle of Skye. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You're a Londoner, right? Once a Londoner, always a Londoner. Do you live near Marble Arch? /Kelsey** Dear Kelsey, Certainly I would like to still live in London. (Well, apart from how crowded the streets are. Mathilda Ermyntrude doesn't like crowded streets.) My roommate, however, would be opposed. Was, in fact. So, no, I don't live anywhere near Marble Arch. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, With your roommate being, in fact, a Somerset boy, I'm sure you live somewhere around here. Maybe near Axbridge? /Judith** Dear Judith, No, I'm sorry; the Somerset boy did not get complete control over our location, so we're not near Axbridge, or anywhere else in that area. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Charlene and Karl are both wrong. I'm sure you live in Blackpool. /Poppy** Dear Poppy, No, not in Blackpool. But my— all of this enthusiasm about where I live! I'm almost flattered. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Okay, so no nudity. How's your singing voice? /Cara** Dear Cara, That depends on who you ask. And how much I've had to drink. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

****_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
25 October 1983  
10.18 pm_

"Please, please, _please_ , James?" begs Sirius, sitting on the coffee table with his feet propped on the sofa, one either side of James's legs. His hands are clasped pleadingly together under his chin, and his eyes are wide and pitiful. " _PLEASE_?"

"Si, I'm really tired —"

"I know, I know," interrupts Sirius, his tone growing even more dejected. "But _please_? I really, really want to. Just the once?"

James looks at him. "Will you make me breakfast in the morning if I do?"

"Absolutely!" Sirius rushes to assure him, and then pauses as something seems to occur to him. "Er, that is, if you're sure you'll want me to."

Frowning for a moment, James shakes his head. "Maybe just coffee."

"Coffee. I can do coffee. I can definitely do coffee." Sirius nods quickly several times. "And if you do, I swear I'll leave you alone after!" After a pause, he reluctantly admits, "Or, well, _mostly_ alone, anyway."

"This had better be worth it."

"It's _always_ worth it, James," admonishes Sirius, standing up and turning around to bend over the coffee table.

"That's what you say," James says with a yawn, sitting up straighter on the sofa.

Sirius steps over the coffee table and straightens, turning again to face James once more. He now has something in his hand. "Well, it is always, for me. In here, then?"

"If you say so."

"We could go somewhere else, if you'd prefer...?"

"No, here's good," James says, yawning again. "That way I won't have to move."

"Lazy arse," mutters Sirius, beginning to fiddle with the deck of cards in his hands. "This won't work properly if you don't put any effort into it, you know."

"Green will do, thank you," is James's reply.

" _James_."

James, eyes wide open by now, is grinning widely at him. "Yes?"

"You're impossible," Sirius grumbles, beginning to separate the Exploding Snap cards into two stacks... which takes him about half a second. "Are you actually going to pay attention at all?"

"Depends," James replies. "What's in it for me?"

"We went over that already, didn't we?"

"Did we?" James yawns again. "I told you, I'm exhausted. We had to run four miles at the end of practice today."

Sirius stops to whistle. "Jeeze. Who pissed off your coach, then?"

"Guess."

"Did the Beaters show up hungover again?"

"Nope."

Sirius thinks about it a minute. "Was it the stupidly cheerful one?"

"Davenport?"

"Yeah."

James shakes his head. Sirius tries again, "The tiny one?"

"O'Brian?"

"Yes," nods Sirius. Nodding, James yawns again. "What'd she do?" demands Sirius, looking curious. "She looks a bit darling to me."

"She's too much of a darling, that's the problem," James explains. "She's been dating the coach's nephew."

Sirius frowns. "And the coach doesn't like that?"

"No, no, he loved it," James says, shaking his head. "I said she's _been_ dating his nephew. Past tense."

"Uh-oh," replies Sirius, pasting a mournful expression on his face. "I see. The perils of dating those close to those who are close to you!"

"See why I won't let you hook up with my mum?"

"Quite," Sirius agrees sadly. A pause. "Well, that, and I'm really not her type. Are we playing, or not?"

"Hit me."

Sirius reaches over and punches James's shoulder.

"I hate you so very, very much," James states.

"No, really, I hadn't noticed." With the hand not used for punching, Sirius holds out James's half of the deck. "Here. You get bottom this time because I hate you, too."

James rolls his eyes, but accepts the cards anyway. "What do you mean that you're not my mum's type, anyway?"

"Don't you know? Merely that I'm young and undependable. And not your dad."

"I try not to think of her as having a type," James mutters, laying down the first card.

"Why?" asks Sirius, setting down his card as well.

"Because she's my mother?"

"And that means she can't have a love life?"

James gives him a look. "What about _your_ mother, Padfoot? Does she have a type?"

"Of course not!" exclaims Sirius, looking horrified. "But then, she's not human, is she? Snap!"

"Crap."

"You didn't even try on that one!"

"My brain has gone to bed!"

"Well get it back up, can't you? It's not fun this way," pouts Sirius.

"You can't say I didn't warn you." James frowns at his (now bigger) pile of cards. "Can't we just watch that thing instead, Si?" he then asks, nodding at the television set.

"I'm not in the mood," Sirius shoots back grumpily. He throws down his cards. "But I suppose there's no point in playing if you're not going to play..."

"Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase?"

Sirius sighs and reluctantly moves back to the couch. "Oh, fine, fine, fine. We won't play. I don't want to watch the TV, though."

James pouts at him. "What do you want to do, then?" Sirius thinks about this. "Make up your mind or I'm going to bed."

"Actually that was my thought," admits Sirius sadly.

James looks at him. "Bloody hell, we're old."

"No, you're just tired and I'm just bored."

"Old and decrepit!"

Sirius glares at him. "One more word and I'm going out and getting drunk."

James shakes his head. "You really shouldn't, you have work tomorrow."

"Yes, well, it's not like my job is _hard_ , or anything," retorts Sirius, though his expression says he knows that James has a point. A grin is playing at the corners of James's mouth. Sirius sighs, and looks disgruntled. "But I guess I won't go out."

"How about this," James says, trying to hide his grin. "I make us some tea and sandwiches, and you can tell me what happened to that bread basket in there -- which, by the way, I don't remember buying."

Sirius's expression turns instantly wary. "Bread basket? What bread basket?"

James raises his eyebrows. "The one in the kitchen? Blue thing? All furry?"

Sirius clears his throat. "Oh, Lily's bread basket, you meant."

"... that thing belongs to Evans?!"

"Well, it did." Sirius is fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt. "I... borrowed it."

"Was it always that fuzzy?" James asks, suspicious.

"Maybe." Sirius clears his throat, and then yawns theatrically. "You know, I'm really quite tired suddenly."

"Uh-huh."

"I think perhaps I'll just go on up to bed." Sirius starts toward the kitchen.

"You do realise she's going to kick your arse from here to Dorset," James states.

Sirius doesn't reply right away, having disappeared into the kitchen. When he comes out, he's holding the bread basket. "Hopefully not," he mutters.

Walking up to him to look at it, James lets out a low whistle. "Damn, Si, what did you do to it?"

"I like it better this way," Sirius replies airily, which doesn't actually answer James's question.

"Do you think Evans will like it better this way?"

"I'll put it back to normal if I give it back to her." James does not look convinced. Sirius starts edging around him. "Anyway. Like I said. Going up to bed now. See you in the morning. Night, James."

"Siiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiius."

Sirius pauses. "What?"

"We were gonna have sandwiches!"

"Oh. Right." Sirius's expression is torn between hunger and wariness. "Well, I'll just put this upstairs and come back, then."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," James says, rolling his eyes. "Do you really think I'm about to sell you out to Evans?"

Sirius looks pitiful. James raises an eyebrow. "You might," Sirius finally mutters.

"Sirius!"

"But only if her price was high enough," Sirius hastens to add.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, she might offer to let you beat up Remus, or something." Sirius pauses. "Or to feed me for an entire month so you don't have to."

"Why would I want to beat up Remus?" James asks, his voice rather shrill.

"Because Remus always needs to be beaten up?"

"You're such a bully, Padfoot."

"No, I'm not; it's not my fault Remus doesn't notice when Lily buys new boots." James just looks at him. "What?" demands Sirius.

"Let's just go to bed, shall we?"

Sirius looks at him oddly. "Er, that's kind of where I just said I was planning on going..."

Making a shooing motion at him, James says, "Just go. Move!"

"Whatever makes you happy." Sirius heads for the stairs again.

"Good night, you prat," James calls after him.

"Night," Sirius calls back over his shoulder.

* * *

**Wednesday, 26 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How many roads must a man walk down? /Z** Dear Z, However many it takes to get him where he is going once his bike runs out of petrol. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever tried inhaling Floo powder? /Kevin** Dear Kevin, This is not recommended. It hurts and you sneeze green for a week. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Can you do pull-ups? /Muscle man** Dear Muscle man, Well... yes. I guess. If I have to. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Don't you reckon I look like Celestina Warbeck? /Mildred** Dear Mildred, Um... Not... really. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think you are super duper dreamy. Do you get hit on a lot when you go out? /Sarah** Dear Sarah, Rather a lot, yes. I don't usually go out, though. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 28 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife and I are currently expecting our first baby and we can't agree on any names. Have you got any suggestions? Any thoughts on what NOT to name a baby? /Randall** Dear Randall, I would say "just don't name the poor thing after a star," but that seems a bit too eccentric, coming from me. So I'll just point out that it gets confusing if you name your children after relatives who are still living. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you played Quidditch, what position would you play? /Keeper** Dear Keeper, Well, I've often thought I'd like to be a Quaffle, myself. Pity; there doesn't seem much of a call for that position. I guess I'd like to be a Beater, I suppose. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Siri, I'll see you tomorrow!!!!! I hope you're as excited as I am. Love and kisses Melinda xxxxxxxxxoooxoxoxoxoxox** Dear Melinda, Oh, quite. I've got... butterflies. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Tell your readers that I know exactly where you live. And I'll share unless you either give me my bread basket back or buy me a new one. Seriously! /Lily** Lils, You are a cruel, cruel, terrifying and insensitive woman. No wonder Remus likes you. Sirius PS: Your new breadbasket should be delivered tomorrow. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What are you doing this weekend? Are you free Sunday? /Ellen (picture included)** Dear Ellen, This Saturday I'm attending a Quidditch match to interview one of the Chasers, then I have Sunday off, so I think my roommate and I are going to his mother's for lunch and to spend the day with her. Your interest is appreciated, of course! Sirius  
---


	7. 31 October–6 November 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius interviews James for the Prophet.

**Monday, 31 October 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Did you have a nice weekend? /Matthew** Dear Matthew, Yes, I did, thank you for asking. I saw Not-Mum! That makes any weekend nice. Also, I had a chat, in my professional capacity, with a very nice fellow following the Prides vs. Harpies match on Saturday; the interview appears in the sports section of this paper tomorrow. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What sort of girls are you generally attracted to? /Sarah** Dear Sarah, Unfortunately, I seem to generally be attracted to girls with an underdeveloped sense of humour and an overabundance of appreciation for my fine, fine self. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your one single biggest regret in life? /Curious** Dear Curious, (What an unusually serious question.) I'd have to say that his name was Regulus. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I was wondering if you have any good suggestions on what to cook on a first date. I've managed to invite this bloke over for dinner on Friday and I have no idea what to make! Aaagh! I'm rather good with pasta. /Melanie** Dear Melanie, My, that's a tricky question. The principles for first dates, you see, vary depending on the datee and the dater in question. If you're good with pasta, I suggest you stick to that — you wouldn't want to give him a false impression of your culinary skills, after all. (False impressions in general are bad.) Try something a bit interesting with your pasta, like fettuccini with an alfredo sauce, maybe mixed with some grilled chicken and a vegetable, like broccoli. Also, wine. Wine is good. Even for first dates. I like wine. Good luck with your date! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you were a Professor at Hogwarts, what subject would you teach? /R.S.** Dear R.S., Professor!? I?! The establishment would most likely close down of spontaneous shame! Sirius PS: History of Magic; I always thought a certain type of teacher would make it more... enjoyable.  
---  
  
* * *

**The Tuesday Interview  
The Daily Prophet Sports Section  
1 November 1983**

_This week's interview is with rising Quidditch star James Potter, a young man who is clearly the pride of Portree — ha ha ha — despite his rather regrettable manners (and hair). To his fans' delight, he scored quite a few goals on Saturday, helping lead his team to victory, as he usually does. He also very graciously agreed to sit down for this interview before he'd even left the locker room, an event which, given his easily embarrassed nature, is something I must attribute to his being my best mate. Thanks to Portree's win, Mr Potter was in a (mostly) good mood, and I escaped without bodily injury._

 **Sirius Black (S.B.):** Hullo, James. You've your clothes back on now, I see.

 **James Potter (J.P.):** Hi, Sirius. Is this always how you start your interviews?

 **S.B.:** Fully clothed? Yes, of course. If you object, however, I'm sure we could put this on hold while you go put back on that towel you were wearing a moment ago...?

 **J.P.:** Well, it's not my fault you barged into the dressing room!

 **S.B.:** I knocked first.

 **J.P.:** I thought you were one of my teammates. Is this really what we're supposed to be talking about?

 **S.B.:** [Ignores him] Regardless, you ARE dressed now, so I suppose it's time for my first question.

 **J.P.:** How was your date, by the way?

 **S.B.:** [Loudly] You had a good game, didn't you?

 **J.P.:** You as in me or you as in the team?

 **S.B.:** You as in you, of course. The team did well, after all, but you were in particularly good form.

 **J.P.:** Why, thank you. I'm rather pleased with that fourth goal I made. And you're trying to distract me from asking about your date.

 **S.B.:** Am I? I hadn't noticed.

 **J.P.:** Whatever you say. How was Melinda?

 **S.B.:** She was... uh, very attentive. And she really has nothing to do with the interview. We should get back to that, don't you think? This is very inappropriate.

 **J.P.:** All right. We'll discuss it over dinner. [Laughs] Go on, then!

 **S.B.:** _Ahem_. I'm supposed to be asking you when you first started playing, but the expression on your face suggests that would be stupid, since I already know. So! And I've always wanted to know this— are those outfits really as uncomfortable as they look?

 **J.P.:** Well, the shin protectors aren't the most comfortable thing to wear. Nor is, er, you know, the groin protector. And for those readers of yours that don't know me as well as you do, I started playing when I was about three. Isn't this supposed to be for their enlightenment, not yours?

 **S.B.:** [Dismissively] It's not like I can't fill that sort of thing in later. Now, why do you wear the shin protectors if they're uncomfortable? You can't convince me they actually _work_ very well.

 **J.P.:** I've never broken any legs playing Quidditch, have I?

 **S.B.:** Well, not technically, no — that was my fault and had nothing to do with Quidditch, as I recall. But I suppose that means all those bruises on your legs come from something other than Quidditch. Hm...

 **J.P.:** Well, I wouldn't say they protect you against bruises. Should I talk about how I got started playing at all?

 **S.B.:** Well. [Sigh] I suppose you ought to. But just a bit, all right? You know I've already heard this about a dozen times.

 **J.P.:** It's your job! They're paying you to listen this time.

 **S.B.:** They're not paying me _that_ much.

 **J.P.:** [Rude word].

 **S.B.:** Mind your tongue, James.

 **J.P.:** You're one to talk. Um, like I said, I started when I was about three. I made my mum and dad play with me. [Pause] They weren't that good at it.

 **S.B.:** [Laughingly] You know I send your mum copies of all my articles, right?

 **J.P.:** Well, they weren't! Mum played Beater. Do you know of any women in their late fifties who are good with a bat?

 **S.B.:** Oh, dear. No, I'm afraid I don't. (Sorry, Mrs. P, but he's right.) Why didn't your father play Beater, though? I never figured that out.

 **J.P.:** Because men in their late sixties aren't very good with bats, either. [Laughs]

 **S.B.:** And of course a three-year-old has a right to expect the best in his fellow players.

 **J.P.:** Naturally! Anyway, there weren't a lot of other wizarding kids around so I didn't really play seriously until I went to school.

 **S.B.:** Aaaand we're back to the stuff I'm familiar with. You joined your house team and were a big star, etc., etc.

 **J.P.:** That's one way to put it! [Laugh] I started playing Chaser for Gryffindor in my second year, and then I was elected Captain in my fifth.

 **S.B.:** I suppose I'd find that fascinating, if I wasn't there for all of it. [Sighs] And did you always want to be a Chaser?

 **J.P.:** Pretty much. I don't have the patience for Keeping or Seeking, I don't think. I like Chasing because it makes me feel as though I'm in the centre of the game, you know?

 **S.B.:** Oh, yes. [Dryly] I know.

 **J.P.:** What's that supposed to mean?

 **S.B.:** Nothing. Nothing. Ah, since you've just admitted you like to be the centre of attention, this is a good opportunity to ask what you'd do for a living if you didn't play. Modeling, maybe?

 **J.P.:** [Pause, then laughter] I don't think I'd make a very good model. [More laughter.] I don't know, actually. Probably something like what I did before I started playing professionally. And I did not say I like being the centre of attention!

 **S.B.:** Of course not. [Pause] When you mention what you did before, would that be referring to chasing Dark wizards, or to being sick on our carpet every night? Because I don't think that's really much of a career.

 **J.P.:** I was not sick on our carpet every night!

 **S.B.:** Well, not _every_ night… [Laughter]

 **J.P.:** Remind me why I live with you again?

 **S.B.:** Because I'm adorable. And your mother loves me. Now. What was your favorite colour when you were three?

 **J.P.:** That cannot be one of the questions you're supposed to ask me.

 **S.B.:** It isn't. Well?

 **J.P.:** I can't remember. My favourite colour now is red, though.

 **S.B.:** I know. So are your sheets.

 **J.P.:** That has nothing to do with anything! [Leans over to peer at his questions]

 **S.B.:** [Paper rustles as he hides it] So? Most of the questions I ask people have nothing to do with anything. It's part of my undeniable charm.

 **J.P.:** If you say so.

 **S.B.:** [Clears throat] And your teammates?

 **J.P.:** I don't know what colour their sheets are.

 **S.B.:** That wasn't my question at all! Where is your mind, James?

 **J.P.:** Well, what was the question, then?

 **S.B.:** What are their favorite colours?

 **J.P.:** How should I know?

 **S.B.:** Well, what do you know about your teammates?

 **J.P.:** Well, we all cheer for the same team?

 **S.B.:** Don't be obtuse.

 **J.P.:** I don't know what you want to know!

 **S.B.:** Well! [Huffily] Do you enjoy playing with them?

 **J.P.:** I do. I think we work very well together.

 **S.B.:** Do you think they like playing with you? Despite your egomania, I mean.

 **J.P.:** I am not an egomaniac! And I would hope so. I think that Christine [Davenport] and Will [William McMullough] and I make a great team.

 **S.B.:** Yes. Yes. No secret power struggles or anything? And your Beaters?

 **J.P.:** Um, not that I know of. Yeah, they're great. They're both great, and Roan [Williamson] is as well.

 **S.B.:** Yes, I've met your Keeper. I've met all of your teammates, actually. They're quite… professional. No comments on your Seeker?

 **J.P.:** Cliodhna [O'Brian] is a pet. She's really sweet. Even if I can't understand what she's saying half the time.

 **S.B.:** People generally get along with you better when you can't understand them; that's why we're such good friends. So what does a normal week look like for you, with such exemplary teammates? Not that I need to ask, of course. It's for the readers, as you pointed out.

 **J.P.:** Well, we usually have morning practice at 9, so I Apparate over at around 8:30 to warm up.

 **S.B.:** [Inaudible mumble].

 **J.P.:** What was that?

 **S.B.:** Nothing. Go on.

 **J.P.:** All right. [Pause] Well, we usually practice until noon, then we break for lunch, and then we go over strategies and such for about an hour. Then we have afternoon practice on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Wednesday and Fridays we do boring stuff like weight lifting and cardio.

 **S.B.:** What do you wear when you practice? And do your weight lifting? I'm sure my readers would like to know.

 **J.P.:** [Pause where James gives Sirius a very dirty look] Anyway, we wrap up around 4 pm, and then I usually Apparate home. And that's about it.

 **S.B.:** You didn't answer! What am I going to tell my readers now? [Presumably pouting] You also didn't say anything about your evenings or your weekends.

 **J.P.:** You know about my evenings and weekends! [Pause] All right, so I get home and if I'm not too knackered I go for a run. Then I make dinner for me and my lazy roommate.

 **S.B.:** I'm not lazy. [Quickly] I mean, what about your weekends?

 **J.P.:** Well, a lot of the time, like today, I have a game on Saturday. If we do well I usually go out to celebrate with the team in the evening. [Pause] If we do badly I go home and drown my sorrows with my lazy roommate.

 **S.B.:** [Obviously changing the subject] I'm checking my question list now and apparently I ought to ask what your hopes are for the future.

 **J.P.:** What, apart from fame and fortune and supermodels?

 **S.B.:** Yes. Apart from those.

 **J.P.:** Well. [Pause] I'm really hoping we'll do well in the series this year. And, you know, it would be great to play for England one day.

 **S.B.:** Only _one_?

 **J.P.:** [Ignores him] Even though it would be weird since one of our Beaters and our Keeper plays for Scotland, and I'm pretty sure Cliodhna will be playing for Ireland soon.

 **S.B.:** At least you wouldn't be playing against either of your fellow Chasers; one has to imagine that would be a bit of a problem.

 **J.P.:** It'd be weird.

 **S.B.:** [Resignedly] While we're on the subject, why did you chose to play for Portree? It's obviously well known you're from southern England, which anyone with half a head for geography could tell isn't anywhere _near_ Scotland.

 **J.P.:** Well, I've always been a Prides fan, really. My dad tried to get me into the [Falmouth] Falcons but I told him the Prides were better, or so I've been told. [Pause] I fancied Catriona McCormack like mad when I was about five.

 **S.B.:** [Laughs] Don't lie. About Catriona McCormack, I mean.

 **J.P.:** I'm not lying!

 **S.B.:** Yes, you are. You didn't fancy her. Admit it. You wanted to _be_ her.

 **J.P.:** I did not!

 **S.B.:** Mmm _hm_.

 **J.P.:** I hate you.

 **S.B.:** [Smugly] I suppose it's pointless to ask who your biggest role model in Quidditch is.

 **J.P.:** So very much.

 **S.B.:** Right. I thought so. What would you say has been your favorite moment of your career so far? Professionally, of course.

 **J.P.:** Well, my first game for the Prides was really great. [Pause] And that time that Catriona McCormack coached us for a week.

 **S.B.:** Of _course_ you'd love that. [Suggestively] Going to coach after you retire, too?

 **J.P.:** Well, hopefully I won't have to retire for quite a while! I haven't thought about it, honestly.

 **S.B.:** No? Well, think about it now. What do you imagine you _will_ do when you retire? Go off and live quietly in the country?

 **J.P.:** Isn't that what we're doing now? [Pause] I've noticed our current location is a big point of interest to your readers, lately.

 **S.B.:** Yes, apparently. I can't imagine why. Do you have something to say to them in that regard? [Pause] And we don't live _that_ quietly.

 **J.P.:** Well, what were the guesses? We don't live in London. And we don't live in Scotland.

 **S.B.:** There was also someone who suggested we lived in Somerset. And don't forget Blackpool! [Laughs]

 **J.P.:** Well, we don't live in Somerset. My mother does, though. [Pause] Blackpool?

 **S.B.:** Yes, Poppy was certain we live in Blackpool. Do we?

 **J.P.:** We don't live in Blackpool, no.

 **S.B.:** I didn't think so. Nice to see I'm not senile yet. [Pause] Do you remember how we chose where to live?

 **J.P.:** Well, you work in London, and I work up on Skye.

 **S.B.:** Yeah. I keep expecting someone to work that out. There was more to it, though.

 **J.P.:** Yeah. Well, we decided we should live somewhere inbetween so we both had an equally long journey to work.

 **S.B.:** [Laughs] Not that it really matters, since we both Apparate, of course.

 **J.P.:** Technicalities. Anyway, since I was raised by the sea I wanted to live near the coast. So that pretty much left Cheshire, Lancashire and Merseyside.

 **S.B.:** We were actually quite lucky to find the house we're in now, weren't we?

 **J.P.:** We were. [Pause] We probably shouldn't say anything else in case people stalk us. So, um, Cheshire, Lancashire or Merseyside. All the Northerners make fun of our accents.

 **S.B.:** James, dear, _everyone_ makes fun of your accent.

 **J.P.:** Sirius, do me a favour and say the word "house".

 **S.B.:** What? [Suspiciously] Why?

 **J.P.:** Since we're making fun of accents.

 **S.B.:** Don't be rude! Do you like haggis?

 **J.P.:** I do, actually. What does that have to do with anything?

 **S.B.:** I was just wondering. So many people seem to think we live in Scotland, you know. I thought there might be a reason.

 **J.P.:** Maybe it's because I play for a Scottish team.

 **S.B.:** So? I work for a London newspaper. You'd think there'd be more to their guesses than that.

 **J.P.:** You got me. I think you should give the girl who said Blackpool some sort of prize for being the closest, though.

 **S.B.:** James!

 **J.P.:** What?

 **S.B.:** [Quickly] Never mind. You're right, though. Maybe I will.

 **J.P.:** All right. [Pause] Any more questions?

 **S.B.:** Yes, I had a few more I was supposed to ask you, I think.

 **J.P.:** Well, go on then.

 **S.B.:** They're some of those boring ones that I know the answers to, though. Like how you got started professionally; I feel stupid asking that one.

 **J.P.:** Well, I was sort of approached back in my final year at Hogwarts.

 **S.B.:** I was there, wasn't I? But you wanted to be a hero more.

 **J.P.:** I didn't want to be a hero. [Pause] I felt there were more important things to do, at that point in time, than to play Quidditch. But, um, yeah, I was approached by a few teams.

 **S.B.:** See? Hero. [Pause] Of course, you knew you wanted to play professionally even before you were approached.

 **J.P.:** Well, yeah. [Pause] I didn't know if I was good enough or not, though. Anyway, I joined the Prides about two years ago, spent a few months as a reserve, and here we are.

 **S.B.:** Here we are, indeed. I have a few choice comments for that 'good enough or not' rubbish, but since your mother and my editor are going to read this, I'll keep them to myself. Which takes care of all the questions I'm _supposed_ to ask…

 **J.P.:** Should I be worried?

 **S.B.:** Should you ever be worried around me?

 **J.P.:** You don't want me to answer that. [Laugh]

 **S.B.:** Hmph. You're single, right? I mean, that hasn't changed since this morning, has it?

 **J.P.:** Why, you want to ask me out?

 **S.B.:** Should I? But I wasn't asking for my own benefit.

 **J.P.:** Don't tell me you've been getting letters on my behalf.

 **S.B.:** You know very well that I have. I've just stopped including most of them in the column.

 **J.P.:** I'm sure that beast of an editor of yours is relieved.

 **S.B.:** She's not a beast, really. She's a sweet little thing. Half my size.

 **J.P.:** I know. We should have her over for dinner someday.

 **S.B.:** Yes, an _excellent_ idea. Why don't we let her meet your mother, too? (As long as she doesn't start talking about cameras.) Then they can terrorize me together. I'm sure they'd like that.

 **J.P.:** Don't push your luck, mate. [Pause] Cameras?

 **S.B.:** …. You've forgotten, haven't you?

 **J.P.:** Do I want to know?

 **S.B.:** Really, I could have sworn you'd read that.

 **J.P.:** Now you're going to have to tell me.

 **S.B.:** Oh, nothing. Just something I said in my column once.

 **J.P.:** Right. [Pause] Really, how did your date go?

 **S.B.:** Ah, I'd really rather talk about that over dinner. And a few beers. [Quietly] And off the record.

 **J.P.:** Are you hungry, Sirius?

 **S.B.:** Mfph. How do you feel about puffskeins? Not for dinner, naturally!

 **J.P.:** Sirius, I am not answering a question about puffskeins.

 **S.B.:** Why not? It's, er, perfectly legitimate.

 **J.P.:** It's got nothing to do with my career.

 **S.B.:** So? Neither does whether or not you're single. Or your favorite color, and you answered that one.

 **J.P.:** Yes, well. One has to draw a line somewhere. My line is at puffskeins.

 **S.B.:** Oh, fine, have it your way. I only have one more question, then, and we're all done here.

 **J.P.:** Hit me.

 **S.B.:** [Pause] What's for dinner?

* * *

**Wednesday, 2 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Thank you for your interview with James Potter, I haven't laughed so hard in weeks. I have a question, though: why did he want you to say "house"? And why does everyone laugh at his accent? /Amused** Dear Amused, You're very welcome! I had fun with that, myself. He wanted me to say "house" because he has some misguided notion that the way I say it is funny. And everyone laughs at his accent because he... well, he talks like some sort of... of pirate, or something. I sometimes find it hysterical, myself. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am writing in to express my concerns over your ability as a sports writer. While your little column is entertaining, though often lewd, I found the interview in yesterday's paper very unprofessional and lacking. Sincerely, A concerned reader** Dear Concerned Reader, If you're judging my abilities based on an interview with my best friend, which I deliberately conducted in as lax a manner as possible (I don't really see what else my editor could possibly have expected), then I find _you_ unprofessional and lacking! Besides, the athlete interviews are, I feel, the least important aspect of sports journalism. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Ooooh your biggest mistake was a MAN! Do share all the lewd details. Was it a youthful indiscretion? A drunken rendez-vous? The public needs to know. /R.S.** Dear R.S., Don't be absurd. The man in question was my _brother_. Any half-wit with the barest notion of pureblood family trees could have told you that; I see you didn't bother checking. Obviously, there are no lewd details, and I resent the implication that there might be. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I knew I'd seen you in Blackpool! So, if you live not too far away -- what's the best part about living where you do, and what's the worst bit? And what do you think of Blackpool? /Holly (who lives in Blackpool)** Dear Holly, The best part of living where I do has nothing to do with being near Blackpool or any other geographic location. Though, I do like the relatively uncrowded roads; they're good for Mathilda Ermyntrude. I haven't actually come across a worst bit yet. And I'm afraid I haven't spent much time in Blackpool, though my roommate and I did once venture there for a drink. That was... Well, never mind. You have a lovely city. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why do all men prefer blondes?!? /A brunette who's given up hope** Dear Hopeless, Not to seem forward or anything, but given your dejected attitude, and also my unswerving devotion to the truth, I feel obliged to mention that I personally tend to prefer brunettes, the darker the better. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 4 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am sure your esteemed roommate does not sound like a pirate, although I understand that for a city boy like you, it might be hard to recognise the finer points of local variation. /Not a pirate** Dear Pirate, You do, too. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What about redheads? /L PS: What are you and J up to Saturday after next?** Dearest Lils, Oh, I love redheads. I love them excessively! (Though not so excessively that Remus should feel the need to come after me. Just in case he still reads these. Not that I'm afraid of him, or anything.) J and I aren't up to much of anything, I don't think, as he doesn't have a game... why? Are you cooking? Please say you're cooking. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your favourite season and why? /Carla** Dear Carla, I have to say that I'm partial to summer. In most of the other seasons, you know, the only NFZ in the house is the loo, which is rather distressing. A man shouldn't have to freeze his bits off to enjoy a spot of breeze. So, definitely my favorite is summer. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Lots of girls seem to fancy you so I'm writing to you for advice. I'm 15 years old and have never had a boyfriend. Is there something wrong with me? /Lucy** Dear Lucy, I'm sure there isn't anything wrong with you. It's not at all unusual to not have a boyfriend by the time you're 15 — _I_ certainly didn't. In fact, I'm convinced it happens much less frequently than people would have you believe. Though, if this problem persists in a few years — say, three — then we can have a chat and see if we can't figure out what all the boys are missing, yes? There's a good girl. Have a biscuit. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You seem really into Quidditch. How come you never played? /Aaron** Dear Aaron, Why, because I wouldn't want to steal all that glory, when I've plenty enough of my own, obviously. Mustn't hog the attention, and all that! No, really, the reason I've never played is that, as my charming and highly diplomatic best mate has pointed out ever since the first time he saw me on a broomstick, I am absolute rubbish at it. Quidditch, I mean. I fly perfectly adequately. Sirius  
---


	8. 7–13 November 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James's teammates Christine and Cliodhna discuss him... and Sirius.

**Monday, 7 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Excellent. I am indeed cooking. Premiering my new bread basket. Be over by 6. Love, L** Dearest Lils, Scrumptious, darling. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your favourite pick-up line? /Jerry** Dear Jerry, "If I weren't such a terribly shy fellow, I'd come over here and tell you what an angel you are." Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you drink tea or coffee? /Ashleigh** Dear Ashleigh, No. I do take cream and sugar, though. With raspberries! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently got into this huge spat with my best friend. See, her boyfriend was cheating on her, and I told her this. He denied it and she believed him. She thinks I'm making it up because I want him all to myself. She hasn't talked to me in three weeks and I'm getting desperate here. What should I do? /Missing her best friend** Dear Missy, Oh, gracious, what a sketchy business that sounds. You have my sympathies. First of all, I can only say that, since you've probably been her best friend longer than that fellow's been her boyfriend, it was dreadfully shabby of her to take his word against yours — unless, that is, she's some reason to think you might want the man for yourself? If that isn't the case, which it would seem it isn't, then I do wonder whether she's worth you getting so upset. Especially if three weeks have passed and she hasn't even contacted you to figure out if you were sorry yet! And if she's any good kind of friend, she'll have been missing you too. My initial advice would be to buck up, write this woman off as not worth it, and move on... but as, obviously, this would be completely inappropriate besides being callous, I suggest you sneakily (or not sneakily, however you like) obtain proof of this boyfriend's infidelity, present it to the ungrateful best friend, and wait for the apologies to start flowing — if they don't, I revert to my plan A. I hope this'll help even just a little, and if not, do feel free to be scornful in my direction. It should take your mind off of other things, at the very least. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How exactly does a pirate sound? /Anne** Dear Anne, Like James Potter when he gets sloshed, that's how. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland  
9 November 1983  
3.30 pm_ **

In-between the punches she's throwing at the pads held by her teammate, Christine Davenport is throwing glances across the workout room at James Potter. She's frowning thoughtfully, and not paying as much attention to her boxing exercises as she should be. "Huh," she mutters absently. "He's doing it again, isn't he? I bet he's doing it again."

"Doing what?" asks Cliodhna O'Brian, lifting up her left arm to shield her face from the other woman's glove.

"Oh, bugger!" exclaims Christine, as she belated realises how far off that last punch went. "Sorry, sorry.— He's talking about Black."

Cliodhna looks doubtful. "How can you tell?"

Christine has narrowed her eyes. "The left corner of his mouth is twitching. See— look, it's doing it again!"

".... Chris, I say this with the utmost love, but when was the last time you went on a date?"

Immediately, Christine transfers her narrowed eyes to the tiny Seeker, but then her face relaxes and she laughs a little. "I don't know. Months ago, probably. You'd think a Quidditch player would have better luck, wouldn't you?" she muses, rather wistfully.

"Oh, I don't know," says Cliodhna, "you might be threatening their masculinity."

"Oh, dear..." Christine says apologetically, and looks sympathetic. "I'm sure they're not _all_ like that. Maybe." Then, thoughtfully again. "I bet Black wouldn't be like that."

Cliodhna's eyebrows disappear underneath her thick blonde fringe. "Don't tell me you've got your eye on Sirius Black, Chris."

Christine looks momentarily horrified. "What? No!" she shrieks in a whisper. "That— that fribble? Merlin, no!"

" _Fribble_?"

Blushing slightly beneath her tan, Christine shrugs, and jabs again at one of the boxing pads. She also steals another glance across at James. "Yeah, fribble," she mutters. "'Cause, well, I reckon he's kinda useless."

Cliodhna shrugs. "Decorative, though."

" _Exactly_. Just like I told James a few weeks ago," beams Christine. Having noticed, during her last sneaked peek at James, that the coach had temporarily left the room, she stops swinging her arms and lets them drop. "Did you read his column Monday?"

"Can't recall," says Cliodhna, removing the pads from her arms and throwing them onto the floor, asking "Why?" as she plops down to sit on them.

Christine also lowers herself to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of Cliodhna. She waves a hand distractedly; she's now got her eyes trained firmly on James. "Oh, just, somebody asked what his favorite pickup line was, and it fit _exactly_ with my opinion of him."

"Whatever did the poor lad ever do to you, Chris?" Cliodhna laughs, looking over to where James is still punching away at the pads held by his fellow Chaser.

Christine makes a truly magnificently disdainful face. "My sister thinks he's perfect."

"Don't ever let your sister near Potter."

Christine looks back at the Seeker. "What do you mean?" she asks, adding, "And she's met him already, anyway."

"Did they spend the whole time talking about how brilliantly perfect Black is?" Cliodhna asks, then making a face and leaping to her feet. "Coach is back," she stage-whispers rather unnecessarily.

Christine has already popped upright again, as if her body were loaded with springs, and she's making a large show of stretching her arms as if she'd just pulled a muscle in one of them, to explain why she's not currently punching anything.

When she's relatively certain the coach has stopped staring suspiciously at them, she whispers back to Cliodhna, "Actually, yeah, they kind of did. And James's mouth was doing exactly the same thing as — look, there it goes again! Why does it do that?"

"Maybe he's thinking naughty thoughts," Cliodhna suggests, strapping her pads back on.

Christine's arm slips and collides with Cliodhna's shoulder. "Cliodhna!" she protests. "The man is talking about someone who insists he speaks like a pirate, for Merlin's sake! How can you think naughty thoughts about someone like that?"

"Yes, well, have you _seen_ how fit Black is?" Cliodhna asks, rubbing at her shoulder with a pad. "Pirate?"

Muttering something about absurdly ridiculous beauty being only skin deep, Christine shrugs. "It was in Monday's column... again. Apparently Black thinks James sounds like a pirate when he's been drinking. He's really rather rude about it!"

"You know, he does have a point."

"… Which was hardly _my_ point, Clee."

Giving her teammate a brilliant smile, Cliodhna loudly exclaims, "That's it, Chris! Left, left, right!" In an undertone, she adds, "Coach was staring. Gotta get back in his good graces."

"You poor thing," Christine whispers back, punching with exaggerated vigor. "Have you considered just telling him that his nephew was an insecure weenie?"

"Do you really reckon that'd go over well?" Cliodhna asks, doubtful. "Now, you were saying?"

"Er." Christine thinks about her earlier ramble for a second, apparently needing to find her place in it again. "I think my point was, well, have you noticed how often Black is mean to James in his column? Talking about his funny accent where everybody can read it, and all that."

"But he does have a funny accent!"

"Well so do you, but I make fun of _you_ in a nationally syndicated paper, do I?'

"Oi!" Cliodhna exclaims. A little too loudly.

"Shh!" hisses Christine, attempting to look furiously intent on the boxing she's supposed to be doing, as every head in the room, including the coach's, swings 'round to them.

"She, er, punched me in the eye," Cliodhna says, not very convincingly. "Carry on, carry on..."

"Nothing to see here!" avers Christine, nodding earnestly. "Back to work, folks — right, Coach?"

Cliodhna nods. "Oi, Potter, don't look like such a lazy bum! Left, left, right!"

Quickly, Christine adds, "You're not going to let him get away with that, are you, Coach?"

Flashing the coach a sugar sweet smile, Cliodhna turns back to Christine. "Honestly, it's so obviously all in jest that it's not even funny."

"Er." Christine blinks rapidly. "Yeah, I knew James wasn't really slacking, you didn't need to point it out. Diversionary tactics, you know."

"Not that, you numbskull! The accent thing!"

"Oh! — You mean Black's just _teasing_?"

Cliodhna rolls her eyes. "That's exactly what I'm saying, love."

Christine looks incredibly disappointed. "How did I not catch that?" she demands sadly. "I caught James's twitchy lip thing, but I couldn't pick up on the fact Black was only teasing?"

"Maybe you just spend way too much time thinking about Potter's lips."

Deliberately, Christine misses the pad and punches Cliodhna's shoulder. "Like you wouldn't stare at them if you had as many opportunities as I do."

Cliodhna looks rather pensive. "Really, now?"

Christine stares at her a bit disbelievingly. "You don't think he's got nice lips?"

"Can't say I ever gave it much thought," Cliodhna states. "I _would_ tell you to just snog him and get it out of your mind..."

"CLEE!"

".... but I have this sneaky feeling he's sort of got the hots for Mr Black," Cliodhna finishes, completely ignoring both Christine's wail and the reaction from their teammates.

Christine gapes at her. "I can't believe you just said that out loud," she gasps, after a minute.

Cliodhna looks rather impish. "Which part of it?"

" _All_ of it!"

Cliodhna just grins at her.

"What if Coach had heard you?" Christine breathes, obviously still shocked.

"Which part of it do you think would shock him?"

Christine rolls her eyes. "Well, obviously not the talk of me snogging my fellow Chaser! Half of our fans want to do _that_."

This statement manages to put a look of faint shock on Cliodhna's face. "Really?"

At her surprise, Christine looks equally startled. "Well, yes, didn't you know?"

"Must have slipped me by somehow."

"Don't you read Black's column _ever_?" Christine demands incredulously. "James's fans are all over it."

Cliodhna doesn't look convinced. "Uh-huh. What did you mean, then?"

"I meant you shouldn't talk about James having the hots for his roommate — or anybody," Christine explains sternly, forgetting what she's supposed to be doing and putting her hands on her hips. The level of inattention to her training is at once unusual and understandable, given her preoccupation with certain subjects. "You know Coach can be irrational. He might become offended that James doesn't want to date your loser's sister!"

"Like he wouldn't let his roommate date my loser brother?" Cliodhna retorts.

Christine stares at her. "... What?"

"Look alive with the gloves there, Chris," Cliodhna grins. "You know my brother Paddy? The tall one?"

Looking sheepish, Christine begins punching again. After a moment, she says, "The huge, grumpy lump who comes by after practice sometimes?"

"That's the one."

"Yeah," nods Christine, looking curious. "What about him?"

Cliodhna looks very pleased with herself. "He asked me to ask James to set him up with Sirius Black."

Christine's arms abruptly drop again. "No _way_."

"Way."

"And didn't Black go for it?" she questions eagerly. "I mean, apart from being so gloomy and the size of my house, your brother's not bad looking."

"Between you and me," Cliodhna says, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I doubt James even passed the message on."

Christine gasps, and leans in almost involuntarily to exclaim in an undertone, "You _do_? But that's not like him, is it!"

"Maybe it is when it comes to Black."

"Do you mean you think James wouldn't have passed it on to him even if it weren't about, you know, another guy?" Christine's voice is low and interested. She looks like a twelve year old in the middle of her first good gossip.

Cliodhna nods rather enthusiastically. "See, it all fits!"

"Oooh!" murmurs Christine, punching the pads once or twice, more in excitement than actual adherence to the exercises. "Then it's no wonder James talks about him _all the time_ and is always smiling like that! I can't believe you'd be right about that and I wouldn't."

"Right about _what_ , exactly?" comes a voice from behind her.

Alarmed, Christine squeals loudly and spins wildly around. For a professional Quidditch player, her situational awareness is not looking particularly impressive. " _James_! Hi! What're you doing, er, on this side of the room?"

James, wearing a bright purple t-shirt and looking rather sweaty, raises an eyebrow at her. "Practice has been over for five minutes, Chris."

Christine tries, and fails, not to look stunned. "It has?"

"You know us, James," Cliodhna tries to cover. "Always striving for the very best." She gives him her best toothy grin.

"Right, right," Christine rushes to agree. Her grin is not nearly as toothy or as convincingly distracting as the Seeker's. "We just thought we'd, you know, work a little harder tonight to make up for... make up for... er..."

"Gossiping about me?"

"No!" yelps Christine too quickly. "We wouldn't do that! Would we, Clee?"

" _I_ wouldn't," Cliodhna says, then pauses. "You might."

Christine groans. James, however, just laughs. "Come on, you two. Before the coach has you do extra pushups for loitering."

"Coming," mumbles Christine, looking dejected and, curiously, glaring at James's mouth.

* * *

**Wednesday, 9 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your favourite kind of pudding? /Elsie** Dear Elsie, I once knew a man who made an excellent blackberry torte, bless him, and though he's gone to his great (I hope!) reward, that torte is still close to my heart. In fact, it only barely beats out his wife's cobbler and his son's... er, well, actually, I can't exactly remember what he calls it, but it's this great fudge-ish chocolate-y thing with almonds and some sort of fruit and a really truly delicious rich sort of... sauce thing. (I think he buys it at the grocer's down the lane.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I take it you are familiar with the Muggle artform of films? If such a film were made about your life, who would play you? And who else would star in it? /Film buff** Dear Buff, Egad! What a loaded question you appear to ask me. I'm sure I don't know who'd play me. Someone fabulously dashing and handsome and not old, with very wonderfully murderous bone structure, I'm sure. As for who else would be in it, well, they'd have to find some horrid old hag with an astounding set of lungs who used to be pretty, to play my mum, and they'd probably get a scrawny mop and call it my best mate, and then some very nondescript cat to play our other friend from school, and probably a pixie to play the cat's girlfriend and the bane of my Hogwartsian existence. As for the rest, maybe they'd find some use for that Bond fellow — you know, the Scots chap who did it so well. Or better yet, there's a woman I saw in a few films, with a terribly ordinary name that I can't recall (Jones or Smith or something), who reminds me a great deal of a certain professor at Hogwarts, and I think it would be such fun to put her in it! And that's really all I can think, at the moment. Except maybe whoever would make this movie of my life would be nice and put in lots of dogs. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius's readers, Doesn't this remind you of pirate speech? "Oi, luver, 'ee's a nice parrrtei, inn'ee?" Because that is what James Potter sounds like when he's sloshed. It is, indeed, hilarious. But then on the other hand, so is Sirius's inability to say "Monday". /Impartial judge in this matter** Dear Judgie-poo (which rhymes with Remie-poo), I can too say "Monday". You just have some silly—silly listening disability when it comes to certain things that leave my mouth. Though of course you're right about James, and I thank you very graciously for having written in to support my conclusions. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am 17 years old and I have a 14-year old sister. She's a complete nightmare at the moment! Fortunately we're not in the same House at school so I don't have to put up with her all year round, but the holidays are nearly unbearable. She keeps yelling and slamming doors and and nicking my things. Over Christmas she whacked me round the head with a skillet! I try to be nice to her and keep my patience but it's hard, to say the least. Do you have any idea what has brought this on, or any suggestions as to how to make it better? /Desperate brother** Dear Brother, I'm afraid that the problem, sir, is that your sister is female, and you're her brother. She can't help it. Just be kind to the poor thing until she grows up and gets married, and her husband has a chance to mellow her out. (By that I mean, steer clear of the skillet, old boy, until she has someone else to aim it at.) It's your only hope, I'm afraid. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? /Jessica** Dear Jessica, The first thing I tend to notice is whether it looks like they possess monolithic satellites of the masculine variety who might disorder my hair if I were caught looking in a wrongly fashion at the aforementioned representative of your fair sex. I do not like to have my hair disordered, you understand. Someone might think I was trying to mimic the artless (and styleless, I might add) coiffure of specific roommates I have that I could name but won't because to needlessly write the words "James Potter" would probably annoy my editor. Again. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 11 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Did you really only have two friends while at school? You seem a lot more popular than that. /Curious** Dear Curious, Of course I had more than two friends! I had many friends! The whole world was my friend! I was just... particular. Damnably so, curse my arrogant hide. Your accurate and flattering opinion of my character has been noted, and if I knew who you were, I'd give you a gold star. A shiny one. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your favourite way to spend a weekday evening? /Tina** Dear Tina, On a couch, preferably in my own living room, idly kicking furniture and insensitive feet while I play Exploding Snap and listen to nameless people complain about how hard they work and how exhausted they are while I just sit behind a desk all day and scribble nonsense, and by the way I cheated there so that point is his. When this sort of fun is not to be had, of course, my second option is to catch a game of footy on the telly. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just wanted to say that I'm in the same situation as that poor boy who got smacked by a skillet, and I'm a girl! Granted my sister never attacked me with kitchenware, but on the other hand she keeps "borrowing" all of my clothes, and I AM in the same House as her! It's horrible. I was never that annoying at her age. Do you think something's changed in the last three years? Maybe something in the water. /Desperate sister** Dear Desperate, Ah, your plight, it saddens me, so I will confess: I was not truthful with that poor lad who wrote in a while back. Not entirely, anyway. You see, it doesn't matter what gender(s!) you and your sibling are, the true problem is being an elder sibling. The oldest come first and get all the good genes, you see, and that leaves only the annoying ones for the younger to get. There's just no way to change it. It must be endured. Sirius PS: In a pinch, I recommend preemptive retaliation. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius "Mundee" (and RP boy Remus), Walk the plank, the both of you. /J** Dear Cap'n James, You can't make me. Nyah nyah nyah! (Besides, you'd just have to clean the mess up afterwards, and you wouldn't have anyone to make you feel maligned. You know you'ed hate that.) And anyway! You haven't got a plank! ...Unless you put one up in the living room since I left for work...? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You like dogs? Have you got any? I have seven! Here's a pic of them.**

**/Dog lover** Dear Dog Lover, Er, yes, I have a dog. Dog, singular. So just the one, but he's a great beast of a thing. 

Isn't he brill? Sirius  
---


	9. 14–20 November 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and James have dinner at Lily and Remus's, then a few beers at home. They finally get a clue.

**Monday, 14 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Mr Black, May I just remind you that the whole world was not your friend. The whole world without a sense of honour and dignity, perhaps. Signed, Pureblood** Pureblood, Oh, sit on it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What kind of shoes are you currently wearing? How many pairs do you own? /Callie** Dear Callie, I'm wearing boots, actually. These great black things called combat boots (not bulldozers as some people insist!), which are most excellent for stomping around in. I only own one pair of them, unfortunately; I'd like to get another. Otherwise, as I think was your question, I own... some where around six pairs. Counting my wellies. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You seem a very friendly young man, not to mention you're rather easy on the eye! My granddaughter is a very nice young lady who needs to settle down and have a family. She's currently living in a tiny place with her best friend (who also needs a husband -- perhaps your roommate is available?) and claims that she's perfectly happy, but I don't quite believe her. Everyone craves love, after all! She spends all of her time with her best friend so she has no time to meet a man, so I figured I would ask you. What do you think? /Rosie's grandmother** Dear Rosie's Grandmother, I have to wonder, have you discussed this with your granddaughter? Because it sounds to me like her situation is very similar to mine, in which case you really ought to believe that she actually is quite happy. Maybe if she wrote in herself? (I don't much approve of things like arranged marriages, anyway, you know.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Your dog looks rather... mischievous. And slobbery. And possibly smelly, too. Leave him at home on Saturday, please. /R** Dear R, But... you know that if I leave him at home, I won't be able to come! You know James doesn't like it when my dog gets left alone at the house like that. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm dating a Muggle who's mad about sports. Now I know you like this thing called football, but what other Muggle sports would you recommend I read up on to impress him? /Clueless** Dear Clueless, Ping-pong is very popular with Muggles, I understand. You might try that! Or rugby! I like rugby. It's very manly. Kind of like ping-pong. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 16 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How come you haven't got a girlfriend if you're so charming? /Hanna, aged 12** Dear Hanna, Because I'm too charming for my own good, of course. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am in a bit of a sticky situation. See, I've had this girlfriend for about five years. Recently, she was out of town for several weeks and well, you know how it goes. Problem is... I contracted something and it's probably passed on to her and now I have to tell her. How do I break the news in the best way possible? /I want to keep my balls** Dear Future Eunuch, First of all, get used to the idea of not having any balls, because I doubt you're going to keep yours. You can't possibly have a good excuse for cheating on your girlfriend, especially under the circumstances you mentioned, so I recommend you not beat around the bush or try to sugar-coat it; just tell her. Secondly... No, I do not know how it goes, you presumptuous swine. Sirius PS: When she starts throwing plates, don't try that hard to dodge them. A knock upside the head may do you some good. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's better on girls, long hair, short hair, or inbetween hair? /Judy** Dear Judy, I like long hair or short hair on girls. (My friend Lily had long hair in school, and Not-Mum has short hair. I think maybe I am prejudiced.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why don't you approve of arranged marriages? Did you have one yourself? /Someone who's in a very happy arranged marriage** Dear Happy, No, I did not actually have an arranged marriage myself... but my parents planned to arrange one for me. Which would not have worked out for me, but I'm very glad to hear that you did not have that problem! Congratulations to you and your spouse. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your favourite kind of question to get for your column, and your least favourite? /Jamie** Dear Jamie, I like getting random questions, like the one a few weeks ago regarding hippogriffs and thestrals. (I also like questions like Monday's one on interesting Muggle sports.) And I don't particularly enjoy getting obnoxiously prying questions like those from "R.S." Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 18 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you and James Potter related? I saw a picture of him recently and I noticed you look a lot alike, with dark hair and dark eyes. Cousins, perhaps? /Eagle-eyed** Dear Eagle-eyed, No. Apart from the way all Purebloods from the old families are related because of their stupid and self-destructive inbreeding tendencies, James and I aren't related at all. Well, his mum has pretty much adopted me as hers, but... there's no shared blood there. Our physical similarities are pure coincidence. Sirius PS: Do you need glasses? My eyes are grey. And James's are hazel. Brownish hazel. But they're not dark. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you got any piercings or tattoos? Would you like any? /Albert** Dear Albert, No, I haven't any. I've always thought I'd look rather dashing with an earring, though, but... I've no interest in being pirate-like. Which is also why I never got any tattoos. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have this problem with my mate. I'm a girl and he's a guy and we've been best friends for ages; we're 16 now. Lately he's been acting so weird around me. We've always gone to Hogsmeade and parties and stuff like that together before but now he refuses, and he won't look me in the eye anymore! I'm afraid he hates me. I don't know what I've done to cause it. Please, I have no one else to ask for advice and it's really tearing me up -- what should I do? /Helpless** Dear Helpless, Why, you poor dear. I doubt he hates you. In fact, he probably has a crush on you but either hasn't figured it out yet himself, or doesn't know what to do about it. If you don't feel similarly inclined, then you should probably let the strange behaviour slide, pretend you don't notice it, and hope it goes away. If you do, well, that's completely different. I recommend kissing, if you're the brave sort, and if you're not, well, you'll just have to think of something on your own. Action is good, though — just think, if you do nothing, you may be in the same situation years from now, and think how awful that would be! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been married for a year and I'm ready to start a family (I'm 28 years old). However, my wife (who's 22) says she wants to wait a couple of years. She has no good reason to say this but gets mad when I point it out! Any advice? /Daddy wannabe** Dear Wannabe, Maybe your wife thinks she's too young to have children, or wants to enjoy her freedom for a little longer. Either way, I don't think she needs to have a "reason" for that sort of thing. Just the fact that she doesn't want one now is reason enough. Since she's the one who'd be getting pregnant, I recommend you back off and chill out. Gentle persuasion is all right, but make sure you don't start pestering her, as that could have fatal consequences. Sirius PS: To Wannabe's wife, or those in similar positions, I'd just like to say that you lovely ladies should keep in mind that the old man wants to have kids before he's incapable anymore. These things go sooner than we think, you know! And that would be tragic. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who was the young lady supposed to be your intended? /R.S.** R.S., You don't read very well, do you? And I never figured out who the young lady they had in mind was, but it wouldn't have mattered. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Lily Evans and Remus Lupin  
19 November 1983  
9.47 pm** _

"Scrumptious dinner, Evans," James says, sinking into the sofa and patting his tummy. "Probably gained five pounds. Broom won't hold me."

A grinning Sirius, taking the space on the sofa just next to James, murmurs a rather unkind comment, before adding, "Absolutely delicious, Lils."

"What was that?" James asks, turning around to look at him.

Sirius gives him a sunny look. "Nothing," and turns his head to wink at Remus, who has taken the armchair to the left of the couch.

"You're so mean to me," James complains.

Lily just laughs at them as she refills her own wineglass. "You're welcome, boys. …and it wasn't just me, Remus helped, too."

Remus looks slightly nonplussed to have his part in the meal brought up. "I bought the wine, Lily."

"Which is arguably the most important part of any meal," Lily argues. "Cheers!"

"Hear, hear!" agrees Sirius, lifting his wineglass as a sort of toast in Remus's direction.

"Wino," James mutters under his breath, but with a smile.

"Shut up," and Sirius elbows him, also smiling.

Lily grins at them both. "Aren't you cute."

"How is that cute?" demands Remus in a vaguely distressed way, blinking at Lily bemusedly, before either of the others can respond.

"Just, you know," she says, taking another sip of her wine, "the bickering. 's cute." Sirius snickers softly. 

"I resent that," James argues. "You're a batty lady."

"Really, Lily," interjects Remus, with only a brief glare at James for calling his girlfriend a loon, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," Lily says, waving her free arm in the direction of the sofa. "The bickering and the smiling. It's cute. Were they this cute at school?"

Remus stares at her blankly. "They argued about nothing, yes."

"Hm." Another sip. "I don't remember them being cute at school."

"Maybe because you didn't consume as much wine back then," James suggests.

"Or look at us that often," offers Sirius, while draping his arm across the back of the sofa behind James. Remus simply looks confused.

"Maybe we're just better looking now than we were then?" says James.

Sirius takes a moment to study the side of James's face quite seriously. "Yes, yes, I think we are. That must be it."

"Sirius, stop ogling me."

"I'm not ogling!" protests Sirius, without much concern, though he continues to look at James's profile. "I'm assessing. There's a difference."

"How is there a difference, Sirius?" Lily asks, obviously amused.

Sirius opens his mouth to retort, then pauses to consider. "Well, ogling is just visceral enjoyment. Assessing involves impartial cataloguing." 

Lily laughs. "I have no idea what you just said."

James just shakes his head. "See what I have to put up with?"

Remus is looking between them in a very bewildered fashion. "Why are we talking about the way James looks?"

"Because I'm just that _adorable_ , Remus," James deadpans. "Please do keep up."

"Yes," Sirius agrees, flashing a huge grin at his friend. "Come, ogle James with me."

Lily laughs. "You are so smooth, Sirius. All compliments. And you've perfected the yawn-and-grab."

Sirius laughs as well, putting on his best smile and this time sending it at Lily, along with a quick little wink. "Why thank you — but there wasn't any yawn with that grab."

Lily turns to Remus. "See, he doesn't even need a yawn as an excuse!" Her voice is slightly accusatory.

Remus looks a little baffled, and very much flustered. "His arm is just resting on the couch, Lily. I'm sure he doesn't need an excuse for _that_."

"Please," Lily says, slurring slightly. "They're practically cuddling."

"Lily, REALLY," protests Remus sternly, flushing. "Boys don't _cuddle_ , dear."

Laughing, James looks at him. "What do you know about it, eh, Moony?"

"When he says boys, he means himself," Sirius stage-whispers to James, as if confiding a great secret. Remus turns a bit puce and glares at him.

Fixing her eyes on the two of them, Lily drains her glass. "You two aren't shagging, are you?"

Remus's eyes practically explode out of his head. "Lily!" he shrieks, horrified.

James blinks. Quite a few times. Sirius just stares at her, completely blank faced. He glances at her wine glass. "How much of that have you _had_ , Lils?"

Lily ignores all three of them. "Because you should be."

Remus turns purple. "Lily, _really_ ," he hisses in an undertone, looking wretchedly as if he hopes Sirius and James will just ignore anything his girlfriend has just said. "Please!"

James is still blinking at a rather alarming speed.

"Thank you, Lily," says Sirius solemnly, and utterly deadpan. He seems to be ignoring Remus. "We'll take your opinion into account, I promise."

"You do that," Lily replies, looking rather pleased with herself. And then she turns rather pale.

"Right," announces Remus, quickly getting to his feet. "I think she's done in for the night, lads. You'd better go."

James, still looking rather shell-shocked, stands up. "Well, er. Thank you again and... we'll be sure to return the favour soon." He's eyeing Lily with something resembling concern.

Sirius also stands, transferring his arm from the sofa to James's shoulders. "Yes. James can poison you all with his cooking." He starts walking toward the door, pulling James with him, and shoots over his shoulder. "Oh, and thanks for the advice, Lils!"

James kicks him in the shin, but holds the door open for him nevertheless.

While pulling his girlfriend from her chair and trying to steer her toward the bathroom before she's sick all over their living room rug, Remus sends the other two men a bemused, harassed glare. "Goodnight," he calls, rather distractedly.

"Anytime," Lily calls after them, weakly yet enthusiastically. "Nighty night!"

From the stern set to his face, Remus looks about ready to come down on Lily for embarrassing his friends, but Sirius and James thankfully manage to reach the step and apparate away before they have to hear any of it. They had enough Remus-lectures in school.

"That was _hilarious_ ," James says when they're safely inside their own house. "Did you _see_ that vein on Remus's forehead?"

Sirius chuckles. "Yeah. I thought his eyes were going to pop out there at the beginning."

"Never knew Evans was such a funny drunk."

"Think of what we were missing!" chortles Sirius, wandering in and flopping lengthwise down the couch.

"It's probably all that living with Moony that's brought it on anyway," says James as he sinks down into an armchair.

"Really? You think that'd do it?" asks Sirius, pretending to look thoughtful. "I don't know, I think maybe she'd have to have been like that before."

"Certainly never saw any of it at school."

"Yeah," agrees Sirius, flapping one hand in the air lazily, "but if just living with Moony'd do it... well, we lived with him for nine months a year for seven whole years. And _we're_ not like that."

"We didn't live with _just_ him, though," James argues. "Imagine if it had been just you and Moony in the dorm all those years."

It's obvious that Sirius is thinking about this for a moment, before his face takes on a rather horrified expression, similar to Remus's earlier. "Oh good Merlin, Prongsie. Don't talk like about things like that. I'll lose my dinner."

"See?" James grins. "You'd be just as batty. And drunk."

"I'd be drunker!" exclaims Sirius, looking around now, a bit like he expects a bottle of wine to suddenly appear somewhere. Then he pauses, and his face contorts even more. "And just think, she's shagging him, too."

"I'd rather not, thanks," James says, standing up. "I think _I_ need to be drunker, now."

Sirius nods enthusiastically several times. "Yes, an excellent idea. Why didn't I think of that? You always have excellent ideas."

"That I do," James agrees from within the kitchen. "Beer?"

"Of course," replies Sirius, grinning though James can't see it. "Though after Lily's performance, I do wonder if you're only trying to get me drunk so I'll talk about shagging."

"Like you need alcohol for that," James scoffs, chucking a cold beer at Sirius and poking at his feet. "Move over, you great big sofa hogger."

Catching the beer, Sirius shifts is legs to allow James room to sit. "Just what exactly are you saying about me?" he demands, feigning offense.

James just grins at him and raises his own beer bottle. "Cheers."

Sirius makes a face, and settles his legs across the other man's lap. "And you think _I'm_ mean to _you_."

"If Evans could see us now," James says, still grinning. "Unbearably cute, aren't we."

"Well, _one_ of us is," Sirius agrees, taking a drink of his beer.

"Why, thank you!"

Sirius raises one eyebrow. "You're welcome."

This seems to have caught James off-guard. "Er."

Sirius just grins and takes another drink. James clears his throat. "Anyway. I didn't know she approved of drinking. Lily, I mean. You know."

"She's probably been getting pissed on the sly for years," opines Sirius, sagely, with a bit of a snicker. "Like during all those Defense exams when we thought she looked really glassy-eyed and flushed and nervous?"

"Sirius, that was you."

Sirius looks indignant. "I did not get glassy-eyed and nervous during Defense exams."

"Maybe not," James grins at him, "but you cannot deny your state of slight, ah, inebriation during our sixth year practical one…"

"Maybe not," grumbles Sirius, shooting James a small, mutinous glare, "but _you_ can't deny that that particular incident was entirely your fault."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh. Who was it thought it would be funny to slip the damn Firewhiskey in my tea?"

James looks rather like he's trying to suppress a smile. "Moony?"

"Moony hadn't the imagination for it," retorts Sirius, his voice rather disdainful. "And besides that, he was thoroughly shocked when I proposed to the professor, so I'm pretty sure it couldn't have been him."

"Well," James says, his grin spreading wider with each passing second, "you did get an O; why complain?"

At this, Sirius rolls his eyes. "Because I'm quite certain that thanks to that incident, I'm going to be laughed about in the Staff Room at Hogwarts for the rest of my unnatural but highly inventive life."

"Only because she accepted."

"Which would have been more exciting if she hadn't gone to school with your mother."

James is flat out laughing by now. "Just imagine, though, the life you could have had! Instead of living with me here in this dump —"

"Our home is not a dump! It is a castle!" Sirius squawks in protest.

"— you could have lead a life in luxury as Professor Thomlinson's toyboy —"

"Who would want that, when now I get to spend every morning trying to drag your lazy, grumpy arse out of bed?"

"You could have spent every morning trying to resist having _your_ lazy arse dragged _into_ bed —"

Sirius turns pink. "Merlin, Potter, cut it out! You'll make me violent like the little pink ponies."

"Pink ponies like the ones that would be adorning your lawn," James laughs. "Oh, oh..."

Grimacing in apparent pain, Sirius looks around for something to throw at him. "Seriously, mate, don't make me hex you."

"You wouldn't," James states quite confidently, still laughing. "You might ruin my unbearable cuteness."

"The only thing unbearably cute about you is your Patronus."

"That's not what you said earlier."

"Yes, well that was earlier. Before I realised you were such prick," Sirius snaps, and kicks his stomach. Gently.

James grabs his foot. "Ooof! Bit slow on the uptake, are you?"

"No, apparently I just have horrible long-term memory."

"Must be all that spiked tea."

"So you're saying you've given me permanent brain damage? For shame, Prongsie!"

James looks at him in apparent concern. "You're right. How can I ever make it up to you?" Pulling the shoe off the foot he's still holding on to, he continues, "Give you a foot rub?"

Sirius shrieks in alarm and jerks his foot away. "You idiot, you know I'm ticklish," he accuses, with yet another glare for James.

"I wasn't tickling you!" James protests.

"You were going to."

"Was not."

"Yes, you were. You had that evil, I'm-a-big-meanie-so-I'm-going-to-torment-Sirius look on your face."

"Don't you trust me at all?" James asks, putting on a rather ridiculously overdone pout.

Sirius appears to consider this.

"Do you have to _think_ about it?"

"I'd trust you with my life," Sirius admits, at length. Then he smirks. "My feet are another story entirely."

"Sirius Black, come back here with your big smelly feet right now."

"Oh no. I'm not letting you anywhere near my feet, James Potter." A pause. "And they're not smelly."

The ridiculous pout is back. "I bet you'd have let Professor Thomlinson give you foot rubs."

Sirius kicks him again.

"And you'd never kick her, either."

"True, but only because she was so tiny and so old that if I ever kicked her, she'd probably fall into about a million pieces. You're much bigger and sturdier and kickable."

"Bully." James has grabbed Sirius's foot again.

"Wimp."

"I am not a wimp," James disagrees. "I am a big bad Quidditch player."

"You're a scrawny Quidditch player, you mean," Sirius corrects, self-righteously. "You spend all of your time chasing balls. Whereas I, on the other hand, am a respectable newspaper columnist who weight-trains on Tuesdays."

James raises an eyebrow. "You want an arm wrestling match to sort it out?"

Sirius sniffs. "Muscle mass does not denote strength."

"How about you come to practise with me and we'll see how well you fare, eh?"

"Hardly a fair suggestion!" exclaims Sirius, looking hurt. "You know your teammates despise me."

James rolls his eyes. "They do not."

"They do too!"

"You're paranoid," James states. And starts kneading the foot he's still holding.

"I get hatemail, James," Sirius points out reasonably. He makes a half-hearted attempt to pull his foot away.

"Williamson's mum is overprotective, what can I say."

"And all of Davenport's sisters?"

"That's just because you wouldn't date them, Sirius."

"Well of course I wouldn't! There are six of them and they all look exactly alike!"

"Mhm," James agrees. "Take off your other shoe."

"Why?" asks Sirius in a tone of apparent suspicious, but removes his shoe. "And anyway. What about that hulking goliath who calls himself O'Brian's older brother?"

"Same reason," James says light-heartedly as he moves his ministrations to the other foot. "What did you think?"

"Excuse me?" bleats Sirius, looking startled.

"What?"

"That big brute wanted to…"

James looks rather amused. "Does that surprise you?"

Sirius's face is slightly pink. "But he kept glaring at me the first time we met. I'm sure you're wrong."

"Only because Cliodhna had already asked me to ask you on his behalf," James explains.

Sirius blinks. "Wait, what? I'm being propositioned by enormous Irishmen through Quidditch players and you didn't tell me?"

"... would you have said yes?" There is, perhaps, a slight edge to James's tone that hasn't been there before.

Sirius has begun to look a bit testy. "Well, we'll never know, will we?" he says, a little sulkily. "Do you do that sort of thing often, then?"

James lets go of Sirius's foot. "What sort of thing?"

"Have your teammates ask if I'd be interested in seeing their family members, and then acting as if I wouldn't want to know about it," explains Sirius sharply, sitting up more and pulling his feet away from James. A pause. "And what in Merlin's name would have possessed that O'Brian thing to think I might be interested in her brother, anyway?"

"I can honestly say that was the only time." James look rather uncomfortable. "And I wouldn't know." There's a rather long pause. "You wouldn't have said yes, would you?"

Sirius just glares at him. James says nothing.

"No," Sirius finally growls. Then he shrugs, as if it doesn't matter. "I think you ought to have told me, though."

"Well," James says rather flatly, "I'll know that next time, then."

"Good." Sirius looks at him closely a moment. "Why _didn't_ you tell me?"

"Because!" James exclaims. "He's so — so —"

"Male," Sirius suggests, the word coming out almost challengingly.

" — stupid," James finishes. He raises an eyebrow at Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. "I always date stupid people, James."

"No you don't."

"Name one person I've ever gone out with who you didn't think was stupid."

"Well..."

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "You can't, can you."

"Lorelei wasn't stupid?" James tries.

"I went on two dates with Lorelei and then you called her a hag when you caught me kissing her."

"That's because she looked like one!" 

"You acted like she wasn't in the room and couldn't hear you," retorts Sirius. "That means you thought she was stupid."

"No, it just means I didn't like her," James shoots back.

Sirius has started to look the tiniest bit amused, and has uncrossed his arms. "And why didn't you like her, if you didn't think she was stupid?"

"She was... mean?" James tries. "Anyway, you're hardly being fair. Name one of the girls _I've_ ever dated who _you_ liked."

"There isn't one," Sirius replies promptly, slouching back down against the arm of the sofa, moving his feet into James's lap again.

"Hah!" James grins. "And why not?"

A pause. "Because none of them had any sort of sense of humour."

"Neither does Remus and you like him."

"A little, but you never tried to date Remus."

James turns to look at him. "Pardon?"

"It's one thing for us to be friends with some lame non-funny person," answers Sirius calmly, in his best 'this is reasonable' tone. "It's another for you to be bringing them by our home and expecting me to be _nice_ to them."

"That makes no sense, Sirius," James states. "And besides, Lisa was funny."

"It makes perfect sense! And she was not... but she did have a funny laugh."

"She worked as a comedian!"

"She _almost_ worked as a comedian."

James rolls his eyes. "Details. Anyway, you're the one who introduced her to me!"

"I met her at the Prophet and she said she was a fan!"

"You told me she was nice," James argues. "You had no problems with her whatsoever until I started dating her."

"And what was it I just said about being friends with people and then bringing them around our home?"

"So what you're saying is that you will automatically dislike anyone I date?" James asks.

Sirius blinks. Then looks thoughtful. Then shrugs.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Because you're too fabulous for ordinary humans," Sirius suggests, grinning now.

"In addition to being unbearably cute?"

Sirius nods. "When you aren't being a prick."

"So I'm a fabulous, unbearably cute prick?"

"Mm, something like that," Sirius says with a laugh.

James grins at him. "If Evans heard you say that she'd take back everything she said about you being smooth."

"At least she _said_ stuff about me being smooth."

"Yes, well, she said a lot of things." The corner of James's mouth is twitching.

"Mostly to do with my awesomeness," Sirius points out.

"Or my cuteness."

"No, no," corrects Sirius, smiling, "that one was me."

"I stand corrected," James grins, shaking his head. "And together, the two of you nearly broke Remus's brain."

"Wasn't what I was after." Sirius snickers. "But it was funny."

"What were you after, then?"

"I was trying to see if Lily turned that shade of pink _every_ time she giggled."

"... you're very strange, do you know that?"

" _You're_ the one living with me."

"Yes, well." James pauses for a moment. ".... you don't think she's right, do you?"

Sirius pretends to be offended. "What, you don't think I'm smooth? That hurts, James, it really does."

"Not that," James says, shaking his head and taking a big swig from his bottle. "The... you know." He looks rather uncomfortable.

Sirius's beer pauses halfway to his mouth. James looks at him, eyebrows slightly raised. "Lily is usually right," Sirius finally says, with tiny, would-be-casual shrug.

James chokes on his beer.

 

Sirius watches him, eyebrows slightly raised, his eyes wary. "All right there?"

"Yeah." James coughs a few times. "Yeah. ……really?"

Sirius shrugs again, more uncomfortably. "Well… Do _you_ think she's right?"

Laughing a rather fake sort of laugh, James says "No." A pause. "Well."

Sirius, who had initially looked crushed and disappointed, and had quickly tried to cover the expression, looks at James a bit warily. "Yeah? Well...?"

"Well. Er. Well." James is fidgeting with the label of his beer bottle. "I mean. Er."

His continued discomfort is enough of an answer for Sirius, who abruptly starts beaming. "Oh. Good. Me too."

"What?"

Setting his beer aside, Sirius is sitting up and removing his legs from James's lap. "I think she's right, too," he says cheerfully.

"I never said that," James states, sounding rather nervous.

"I know." Sirius's expression suggests that about fifty Christmases have just come at once.

"… are we actually really discussing this?" James asks, taking a rather large gulp of his beer again. 

Sirius nods. "You started it."

"I did n — bloody hell, I did."

"Told you," says Sirius amiably, sliding down the couch to sit closer to James.

James glances up at him. He swallows. "You're going to kiss me." It's not really a question.

Sirius smiles widely, but stops moving closer. "Yes. And you won't mind." This is also not really a question.

"Sure of yourself, aren't you."

"Sure of you, rather," replies Sirius breezily, inching closer again. James doesn't really have an answer to that. "See?" Sirius leans his head down, eyes darting to James's lips.

"Um." James's own eyes flick between Sirius's lips and watching Sirius watching him.

Sirius's face is only a few inches away from James's. He raises one eyebrow. "I was going to just kiss you, James, but now I'm wondering if you're going to make me do all the work."

Raising one eyebrow right back at him, as though it were a challenge, James reaches up and grabs a fistful of Sirius's hair, forcing his head closer. "Maybe I am," close enough to Sirius's lips that he should be able to _feel_ the words.

"Liar," replies Sirius, his tone very soft and full of amusement, then he presses their mouths together.

James's eyes flutter shut, his hands still clutching fistfuls of Sirius's hair. Very carefully, as if exploring the unknown dangers of a new pranking spell, Sirius slips his hands to James's shoulders and then down his chest, while his lips dance softly but surely across the other man's. James pulls one leg up and under himself, enabling him to turn toward Sirius properly. One of his hands wanders down to the back of Sirius's neck.

Sirius pulls away, grinning hugely. "So."

James's eyes are still closed.

"We're agreed that Lily was right?"

"Um." 

"James," prods Sirius, smiling in a rather annoying way, which means it's probably a good thing that the other man can't see him. He shakes James's shoulders lightly.

"Mmm." James opens his eyes a fraction. "Sorry."

Sirius laughs a little, back in his throat. "Are we agreed?"

James grins back at him. "I think it's definitely worth investigating."

"Definitely."

Still grinning rather stupidly, James leans back in, bringing their mouths together again. With a tiny sigh, tilting his head just slightly to the side so their lips slide just so, Sirius dives back into the kiss. One of his hands, feeling a little more courageous than before, ventures up the side of James's neck to delve through messy black hair; the other just moves down and knots itself in the back of James's shirt, as if determined to keep him from leaving.

James lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a moan, and makes to pull his other leg up onto the sofa as well… only he seems to have forgotten that his half-full beer bottle is balanced between his thighs.

"Wha— Bugger!" hisses Sirius, abruptly drawing back, as the half of his lap closest to James is flooded with cold amber liquid. The expression on his face is almost comical in its frustrated disbelief.

It takes James half a moment longer to react. "Oops," he says sheepishly.

Sirius, now wearing unpleasantly damp jeans and an annoyed grimace, glances first at his lap and then James's face. "Mate," he says, still clutching James's shirt and the back of his head, "I think I was just molested by your beer."

"Looks that way, doesn't it," James agrees, glancing down at the damp material. "Sorry."

Sirius gives a wry chuckle. "Wasn't exactly the way I was hoping that would go, is it."

James raises an eyebrow. "No?"

"Well, yeah," murmurs Sirius, grinning now to match his chuckle. His cheeks turn faintly pink as he adds, "I sorta figured that any molesting taking place tonight would be of the human variety."

James is rubbing slow circles over the skin on the back of Sirius's neck, although he seems rather unaware of it. "Really, now," he says, voice low and grinning. "Planned this, did you?"

"Nah," laughs Sirius, his head angling forward slightly, increasing the amount of skin available to James's fingers. "It's all rather spur of the moment. Off the cuff, you know. All Lily's fault."

"Mmm," James agrees, then chuckles. "Bloody hell."

Sirius laughs again, though he's starting to look and sound vaguely nervous. "Not bad for being spontaneous, though, is it?"

"Apart from the fact that your lap got bathed in ale."

"Yes, well, that wasn't me," retorts Sirius, shifting uncomfortably as he's reminded that his leg and half of his crotch are damp and sticky in a completely uninteresting way.

James nods. His nose brushes against Sirius's. "Better do something about it, don't you think?"

Sirius lifts one eyebrow curiously. "What, like, take a bath?"

Chuckling, James shakes his head. "Dry them? Or…" he trails off.

"Or…?" prompts Sirius, unable to stifle a small smirk.

"Or you could…" There is a definite tinge of pink around James's cheeks by now.

"I could…?" Sirius appears to suddenly be enjoying himself again. Immensely.

"Shut up."

Sirius pretends to be surprised. "I could shut up? So that my lap will stop being full of ale? Now, why didn't I think of that!"

James rolls his eyes. And then kisses him. Sirius kisses him back enthusiastically but rather awkwardly because, yes, his nether regions are still in a rather undesirable state.

Pulling back slightly, James murmurs "Why are you such a git?" against his lips.

"Uh, because I was born that way?" tries Sirius hopefully.

"Mhm."

"Exactly which git-like behaviours prompted this question?"

James pulls back further, nestling his face in the crook of Sirius's neck. "Or you could just take them off," he half-whispers in the general direction of Sirius's ear. It really isn't an answer to the question asked.

"I could," agrees Sirius, grinning hugely in a very smug way, and knowing immediately to what James is referring. "But I don't think I'm going to."

The hand that's been nestled in Sirius's hair loosens its grip. "Oh."

"I'm not the one who spilt ale on them, see."

James is too busy disentangling himself and blushing furiously to really pay attention to this.

"… James."

Ignoring this, James grabs his wand from the coffee table, mumbles a quick spell while pointing at Sirius's jeans, and walks backwards toward the kitchen. "More beer? I think we need more beer." His voice is, perhaps, slightly too high, and his right hand firmly nested in his own hair.

Sirius is laughing a little as he gets up from the couch. "Yes. You need to spill it on me again, so I can make you take my trousers off." James either ignores this or can't hear it. Either is likely, as his head is buried in the fridge.

"James?" calls Sirius, coming up behind him.

"We're out of ale, d'you mind lager?"

"No," says Sirius, still with the trace of laughter in his voice, shaking his head. "You can even use water, if you'd like."

James's arm extends around the refrigerator door, offering Sirius a bottle.

"You're aiming too high."

"Hm?"

Sirius grins. "My lap is lower than that."

There is a pause. "I'm sorry about that." 

"Don't worry, it can easily be fixed," Sirius assures him, adding, "You just drop your arm a bit."

Finally shutting the door of the fridge, James gives him a somewhat weary look, that doesn't quite hide his blush. "Let it go."

"But I _want_ you to take them off!" insists Sirius, pouting a little.

"…… what?"

"… You really weren't listening, were you?"

"… no." The hand is back in the hair.

"I said, you need to spill something else on my trousers so that I can make you take them off," explains Sirius, grinning hugely and reaching out to pull James's hand from his hair.

It takes James about half a second to react. Then he shoves at Sirius's chest. "You twat!"

Sirius snickers. "Oh, come on."

"That was not funny!"

"It was too!" crows Sirius, dancing out of James's reach and looking highly pleased with himself.

"You're such a bully!" James looks highly put out. "'Ha ha ha, I'm Sirius, I'm bigger and stronger and —'"

"Yes. I am. Shut up," and Sirius dives across the room, pressing James back, hands on the fridge to either side of him. He looks very smug as he leans in to press a quick, fierce kiss to the annoyed twist of a mouth before him.

"Mmmf!" James's hands come up to push rather half-heartedly at Sirius's chest.

"'s no use," Sirius points out, kissing him harder, and longer. James's hands seem to agree, as the pushing has turned into fisting the material of Sirius's shirt, pulling him closer. A pleased, hungry noise comes from the back of Sirius's throat; he leans his body against the other man's. One of James's arms sneak around to Sirius's back.

Sirius tips his head back, just slightly, and cracks open the eyes he'd closed. "I'm waiting, by the way."

"Waiting?" James's eyes are closed behind his glasses, his lips brushing against Sirius's as he speaks.

"Yes." Sirius nods. "I'm waiting."

"For what?" The hand that's not holding onto Sirius comes up to the back of his neck, pushing slightly.

Sirius chuckles, but holds his head where it is. "Really, James, I never thought I'd have to work _this_ hard to get you to rip my clothes off of me."

James opens his eyes. And blinks. And licks his lips. There is another pause, and then he says, "Really, Sirius, I'm not undressing you in the kitchen. I cook in here. Do you know how unsanitary that would be?"

Sirius tilts his head to one side, his eyes gleaming, his grin sly. "I'm trying to decide whether that means you just said you don't want to eat me…"

James's eyes go rather glassy. Instead of answering the question, he says, "How did this happen, Sirius?"

"I pounced?" offers Sirius hopefully, after a brief moment of consideration.

"Not that." James's eyeroll is rather undermined by the smile tugging on his lips. "All of this." He pushes at the back of Sirius's neck once more.

"I want you to take my pants off?" Sirius says, in the same tone as before, deliberately not understanding.

"Sirius."

His expression shifting to a slightly more uncomfortable one, Sirius shrugs. "Lily gave me courage."

James looks at him for a heartbeat, then leans forward and captures his lips with his own. The hand he buries in Sirius's hair is trembling slightly, and the kiss is missing the playful undertones from before. Sirius seems to notice, and he moans softly, pushing forward and returning the kiss with a sort of barely-restrained hunger. With one foot he takes a step closer, pressing their bodies together more satisfyingly. James lets out a sort of half-groan, ignoring the way the handle of the refrigerator is pressing into his spine, and gently bites down on Sirius's lower lip.

"James," Sirius tries to say, which is made difficult both by the fact that his friend has possession of his lip, and also that he's just plain not willing to stop kissing James. He moves rather restlessly, his left hand coming off the refrigerator to clutch the front of James's shirt like some sort of handle, which he uses to pull the other man a little away from the kitchen appliance. "Question."

"Mmmnnnf," James manages.

"What did you do with the beer?" This comes out rather muffled, as Sirius has freed his mouth and begun trailing it down James's jaw, the underside of which he seems to find fascinating.

A pause. "What beer?"

Sirius chuckles. "That you came in here to get, remember?" He seems to have decided he likes the way James's skin tastes; he's lightly licking along the tendons in his throat. "Mmm."

James groans, and the hand in Sirius's hair tightens its hold. "I…"

"I ask," explains Sirius meditatively, moving on to nibble at James's earlobe, "because I am considering moving this party to the floor and would really not like to land in a pile of lager and broken glass."

"Pile of…" Pulling rather non-gently at Sirius's hair, James glances down on the floor. "Oh, bugger it all."

"I was afraid of that." Without further warning, Sirius pulls James away from the fridge and over to the other side of the kitchen, coming up short against the pantry door. He makes to bend his lips back to James's neck.

James chuckles rather low in his throat. "You just like manhandling me, don't you?"

"Merlin, are you kidding? I love it." Sirius is smiling very widely, though James can't possibly see it, and his hand is weaseling its way up James's back under his shirt. Gasping as Sirius's hand makes contact with his bare skin, James brings their mouths together once more. Sirius eagerly delves into the kiss, his tongue stroking and seeking against James's. "You ought to try it some time," he taunts, the words swallowed in a mouth that isn't his own.

"What, manhandling myself?" James mumbles, not really paying attention to the conversation.

"No." A swift, tiny but sharp bite to James's upper lip. "Me."

James groans again. "Is that what you want me to do?"

Sirius shakes his head slightly, his hand curling against James's back and his nails digging, just a little, into his skin, as he continues to devour his mouth. "Not… now."

The hand that's not in Sirius's hair slips underneath the front of his shirt, trailing over his stomach. Sirius's breath catches, causing him to inadvertently suck James's tongue into his mouth. James's fingernails trail against Sirius's stomach in response.

"Mmf." Sirius's hand goes higher up James's back, dragging his shirt with it. Sirius seems to intend to remove it.

James's response to this is to let go of Sirius, raising his arms slightly. The shirt is almost immediately dropped on the floor, and both of Sirius's hands are moving feverishly up and down James's back. Both of James's hands come up to cup Sirius's face, pulling him down towards his lips in a rather frenzied manner.

One hand moving down to James's hip at the same time he adjusts his stance so that his legs are spread a little more, Sirius moans and presses their hips together.

"Oh, fuck."

A guttural noise and a buck of the hips are all Sirius's response.

"Bloody — Sirius —" James is rather gasping for air. One of his hands comes down to tug at the material at the back of Sirius's neck.

"Fuck," Sirius gasps, rocking his hips again. He looses his arms from James and yanks rather clumsily at the bottom of his shirt. "My shirt — off."

James nods stupidly.

Sirius's shirt joins James's on the floor, and Sirius yanks James's back to him, his mouth latching on to the other man's neck. His head rolling back and hitting the door, James breathes out, "Sirius —"

Apparently incapable of speech, Sirius grunts something, his hands frantic against James's bare skin.

"Sirius — wait."

It takes a moment for the words to penetrate Sirius's brain, but when they do, Sirius freezes, his body tense, his breathing rather fast and shallow, and peers, a touch worriedly, through his lashes at James's face. There is another grunt, this one rather questioning.

James's hair is rather messier than normal, which is saying something, and his face is flushed. "Just — just wait a moment," he says, breathing heavily.

"Wha…?" Sirius manages, his grey eyes dark, rather glazed and a bit unfocused. With a quick, doglike shake of his head, however, he seems to regain a bit of himself. "James?"

"Just —" James swallows. "Just a moment."

A pause. "Of course," says Sirius. His expression is at once sheepish and the tiniest bit unsettled. "Shall I— Er—" With an almost complete lack of his usual confidence, Sirius gestures with his head, apparently questioning if he ought to back up and give James more space.

"No, just…" James takes a deep breath. "What are we doing?"

This surprises a smile from Sirius. "I should think you'd know that much, at least."

"Shut up." There's a small smile playing on James's lips, although he's frowning slightly. "I just —"

"Is this because taking off your clothes in the kitchen is unhygienic?" asks Sirius, suspiciously.

This earns him a small laugh. "No. I'm just… how did we end up… I dunno."

"Macking in the kitchen?"

"Yes, that."

"Well, we started on the couch, if you'll recall," Sirius says in a helpful tone.

James gives him a look. "If I tell you to be serious, will you make a stupid pun?"

"Indubitably," admits Sirius unashamedly, unable to resist leaning down to nuzzle the side of James's neck.

Closing his eyes for just a moment, James brings a hand up to Sirius's hair and gently tugs on it. "Sirius. Would you listen to me for one second?"

"I _am_ listening," Sirius insists. "If I weren't I'd be kissing you."

At the mention of the word "kissing", James's eyes drift towards Sirius's lips and he swallows rather audibly. "I don't mean to be a girl about this —"

Sirius gives a rather dark chuckle and rocks his hips against James's significantly. "No worries there…"

James flashes him a quick, rather impish grin. "It's just — this — we — you're… you're really important to me, y'know." He can't quite bring himself to meet Sirius's eyes as he says this.

Apparently Sirius does not find this as gratifying as he probably should, because a tiny line appears between his eyebrows. He pulls back slightly. "I sense a 'But—' coming here…"

"No." James shakes his head, bringing the hand that's nesting in Sirius's hair down to the nape of his neck. "No but. I just — I don't — I mean, I don't know if I'm willing to —"

"… That sounds like a but to me," says Sirius cautiously, pulling back a little further; their bodies are now barely touching. The line between his eyebrows has deepened into a full-blown crease. "A rather big but, actually."

"It's not that I don't want… this," James says in a rather staccato way. "I just don't — I don't want us to mess anything up because we got drunk and horny, okay?" His ears turn rather red at the end of his statement.

This does not appear to make Sirius any happier. "I see." He pauses. "Just to be entirely clear, though— are you telling me that this is just drunken horniness and you don't want to do it because it would mess us up? Or are you saying… something else?"

James bites at his lower lip, not meeting Sirius's eyes. "I'm — I mean, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't… thought about it. Before. Um."

"Thought about it." Sirius is frowning, and his tone is noncommittal in the extreme.

"Yeah. Once. Or twice." James pauses, staring at a point somewhere over Sirius's shoulder. "Quite a lot of times."

"Excellent," replies Sirius, though he still sounds somewhat unenthusiastic. "Then why the bit about not being willing…?"

"… why am I the only one saying stuff here?" is James's rather non-answer-like reply.

"Because I'd rather be using my mouth for something else." Sirius glances down at James's bare chest, and his highly appealing neck. "Obviously."

"Because you're drunk and horny?"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Well, I am, yes," he says, sounding uncomfortable, "but it's mostly because I've been wanting to do this for… just about ever."

James raises an eyebrow in surprise. Sirius's cheeks turn a bit pink. "What?" he demands, half-sheepish and half-defensive.

"Nothing." The hand on the back of Sirius's neck is drawing lazy circles. "Just… if you've already waited… forever… one more day is nothing, right?" James's cheeks are even pinker than Sirius's.

"Oh." Sirius considers this. "Was _that_ what you meant?"

"What did you think I meant?" Without bothering to wait for an answer, James continues. "I mean — it's not that I don't want — because — well — obviously — I just — you know?"

"No," replies Sirius, with a tiny, dry little smile.

"No?"

Sirius shakes his head. "You're not being very clear, I'm afraid."

"Well you're not making it very easy on me, you git."

"I _could_ be easy…"

James's response is to grab at the soft hairs at the nape of Sirius's neck and tug. Rather hard.

"Ow!" Sirius tries to jerk his head away from James's hand. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to have a proper conversation here."

"Oops?" offers Sirius.

"Sirius."

Sirius immediately adopts a contrite expression. "Sorry, sorry."

James just looks at him. "I'm gonna go to bed."

Sirius looks hopeful for a moment. "Whose bed?"

James pauses for a moment, biting his lip again. "Mine. Sorry." He pushes gently on the back of Sirius's neck, bringing their faces close together once more. "And we'll discuss this in the morning, okay?" he mumbles, his lips a hair's breadth away from Sirius's.

Sirius looks temporarily torn. "… Right." He abruptly leans in for a swift, hard kiss, and then completely disentangles himself from James, taking several steps back. "You should go, then. Before I reconsider letting you," he says half-jokingly.

"Tomorrow, yeah?" James's eyes are rather glazed over.

"Bet on it."

Nodding once, James disappears out the door and, presumably, up the stairs to his bedroom.

Make a face at the mess of beer and glass still on the floor in front of the fridge, Sirius collects his shirt — and, rather sneakily, James's — and also leaves the kitchen for his bedroom. Once there, it takes him about five seconds to strip to his boxers, definitely NOT put James's shirt under his pillow, and climb into bed, where he lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, a faint creaking noise, rather resembling one that the floorboards outside of Sirius's room make when trod upon, can be heard. This in turn is followed by a few minutes of silence, before the whole process repeats itself.

Another couple of minutes, and there's a soft knock on Sirius's door.

"Yes, you can come in, James," calls Sirius, with a complete lack of any sort of surprise. He seems to be suppressing a hopeful sort of grin.

Opening the door only a fraction, James enters. "We need to get that fixed, you know," he says quietly as he shuts the door behind him.

"It's my alarm system," counters Sirius, scooting so he's sitting up against the headboard of the bed. He smirks a bit. "What's up? Did you want another goodnight kiss?"

James observes him quietly for a moment or two. Then, without speaking, he takes three large strides to the edge of Sirius's bed, and without further ado straddles the other man's legs, leans one arm against the headboard, and kisses him.

"…… umph."

Planting his hands on James's shoulders, Sirius pushes him away until his mouth is free. With a rather dazed look in his eyes, he demands, "What happened to waiting 'til tomorrow?"

"It is tomorrow. Been tomorrow for all of…" he glances over at the clock next to Sirius's bed, "fourteen minutes."

Despite looking a little amused, Sirius retorts, "We only came up here ten minutes ago, James. It's not tomorrow for yo— our decision yet."

Placing his other hand on the headboard as well, James leans in even closer in order to reach Sirius's neck with his mouth, bringing their bare chests into contact.

"James!" Sirius half-heartedly tries to push him away again. "Not that I, er, want you to stop, but I should point out, in case it escaped your notice, we're in my bed and I currently am practically naked. I only have so much self-control, you know."

"So do I," James agrees, licking a line from Sirius's collar bone up to his earlobe, "and I used up all of it downstairs earlier."

"Merl— James!"

"Mm?"

Sirius's hands slide down James's chest, his fingernails raking the skin slightly, and he makes an incoherent moan followed by what he hopes is a sternly spoken, "You could at least say you've changed your mind…" It comes out rather disappointingly fast and breathy.

"I changed my mind," James breathes into his ear, before sucking the lobe into his mouth. The noise that comes out of Sirius is something between a squeak and a groan. James grins against his skin. "Any objections?"

"Yeah." Sirius laughs hoarsely. "You're on top."

There is a grin on James's lips as they return to Sirius's.

Sirius's right hand comes up to the back of James's head, holding him still for a deep kiss of the same forceful quality as their last one in the kitchen. Letting out a somewhat loud moan, James relaxes further against him, bringing their groins into rather direct contact.

"Fuck," breathes Sirius, bucking his hips off the bed. The hand not holding the back of James's head curls around his hips to his arse.

James makes a noise that's half groan, half chuckle. "Thank you for not taking care of that on your own."

Sirius mutters something impolite, and kisses him again.

"What was that?"

"Shut up," Sirius replies, moving his lips to James's collarbone.

James's head falls backwards slightly, exposing his throat. "That wasn't what you said."

"'s what I meant."

"Hmm." One of James's hands has snaked its way into Sirius's hair, and the other has fallen onto his bare shoulder. "Didn't you say you were gonna use your mouth for more useful things than talking?"

Sirius, who is currently licking the skin just beneath James's collarbone, seems to find this question amusing. "Y'mean I'm not?" he chuckles against the other man's chest.

"It's a start." The hand on Sirius's shoulder slides down his arm, coming to rest at his elbow.

"Any particular way you'd like me to continue?" Sirius teases, biting gently.

"Improvise."

"I think I can do that."

The somewhat glazed look in James's eyes is a stark contrast against his rather smug grin. "Get on with it, then."

* * *

Sirius wakes in a stream of sunlight, which isn't the least bit unusual, but the warm presence beside him, and the immediate feeling of satisfaction it produces, is. He smiles even before he opens his eyes, which he does after a little back-arching stretch. Then he turns to see if the other occupant of the bed is awake.

Said other occupant is on his back, his hair a dark mess on his pillow. He's got one arm across his bare midriff, and the other thrown over his eyes as though to shield him from the brightness of the morning. 

One of Sirius's eyebrows lifts slightly on observing this. After a moment, he props himself on one elbow, tilts his head slightly to the side, and says in a normal voice that is not at all the sort one uses with somebody one is afraid might still be asleep, "James?"

There's no response.

A rather wicked light appears in Sirius's eyes. His lips curve into a slow, speculative smirk, and he transfers his weight from his elbow to his hand, bringing him up higher. Just the slightest bit hesitant, he lightly places his other hand in the middle of James's chest, quickly moving it across to trace his finger tips around one flat nipple. This earns him a small, sudden twitch — but the arm remains draped over James's eyes.

His hand changing direction and moving down the flat plane of James's stomach, bypassing the arm draped there, Sirius leans in. His mouth presses, warm and soft, against James's nearest shoulder. Shuddering, James lets out a long breath.

The continued lack of negative reaction seems to provoke Sirius. As his lips work their way across James's shoulder to the base of his neck in a trail of kisses, Sirius's hand slips under the blankets covering James's hips.

"Good morning," James mumbles, arm still in place.

"Is it?" asks Sirius distractedly, into the skin under James's ear, which he has just reached.

"I think so," James replies, moving his arm slightly to give Sirius better leeway. "You get morning sunlight in here, don't you?"

"Mmhm." Sirius tilts his head slightly to take James's earlobe between his teeth. His questing hand moves to James's far hip and tugs the other body closer to his.

"Must be morning, then." James's voice is, perhaps, a little breathless.

"It is for me," Sirius chuckles huskily, tugging again, until his very obvious erection brushes James's hip. Drawing in another sharp breath, James finally removes his arm from his eyes, turning his head to regard the other man. Sirius lifts his head. "Hey," he whispers huskily, the wicked light still in his eyes.

"Morning."

"We've established _that_." Sirius's hand is stroking faintly along James's hipbone, back and forth, whisper-soft.

"That tickles," James complains, squirming a little. His tone, however, is light, and there's a small smile playing over his lips.

"Sorry," replies Sirius, not stopping. James's eyes flick to Sirius's lips. "How'd you sleep?" Sirius queries, his own eyes drifting down James's face.

"Like a little baby cat."

Sirius's eyebrow quirks. "So very little, then."

James raises an eyebrow right back at him. "Little baby cats sleep for 18 hours a day, y'know."

"Not any little baby cats I've ever known." Sirius's hand pauses, then begins to trail down the outside of James's thigh.

"That's because you scare all the little baby cats away, you great big brute." James is breathing rather heavily. "How did _you_ sleep?"

Sirius smiles smugly. "Mm… had the most wonderful dream," he murmurs, bending his head to nuzzle James's jaw.

"Yeah?"

Sirius nods. His hand, halfway down James's thigh, moves from the outside of his leg to the inside, and slow creeps higher. "Except…"

"…except what?" James asks, his voice an octave lower than usual.

"You were actually here when I woke up," Sirius says softly, leaning in briefly and pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the spot where James's jaw meets his neck.

There is a pause as James looks at Sirius through half-lidded eyes for half a moment. Then he's rolling over onto his side, sliding an arm around Sirius's waist and pulling him close, his lips capturing Sirius's rather desperately. 

Sirius returns the kiss with a slow intensity that matches the small, desperate thrusts of his hips. The hand that had been on James's leg is now squarely in the small of his back, the fingers digging slightly into the flesh there. James lets out a low moan, his free hand slipping down between them.

Sirius leans into him, the hand he'd been supporting himself with tangling in the hair at the back of James's head, the better to hold him still for Sirius's possessive kisses. James, however, doesn't really seem to want to stay still. His hand continues its downward trail. Sirius's muscles jump beneath James's fingers, and he moans deep in the back of his throat.

James grins against his lips.

The hand on James's back moves between them, pushing the other man's aside and wrapping itself around them both where they're sliding sweatily together.

"Oh fuck," James breathes.

"Yes," gasps Sirius, biting James's lip.

"Ow," James remarks, without any sort of power behind it whatsoever. "Sirius…"

"Mm?" questions Sirius, jerking his hand experimentally a few times.

"Noth — Merlin, don't stop doing that."

Sirius gives a garbled mumble, to the effect that he couldn't if he wanted to which he certainly doesn't, and his hand moves a little faster. The hand around Sirius's waist moves down to rest on his arse.

Sirius moves his head, his mouth latching on to James's neck. James makes a noise that sounds like a mixture between a hiss and Sirius's name.

Sirius's response is a slight tightening of his fingers, which are still moving rhythmically.

"Oh —"

"James—"

"Yes," James agrees rather breathlessly.

Sirius moves so he can kiss James again, hard and sloppy and desperate. "I— Fuck—"

James's fingernails dig into Sirius's buttock.

"I'm…" gasps Sirius, but his voice trails away into a low, wordless keening sound, as every muscle in his body tenses. Grabbing at Sirius's hand to make sure it doesn't stop what it's doing, James kisses him again, without much finesse.

Sirius kisses him back with an equal lack of finesse, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. His fingers tighten again, convulsively, and his entire body jerks sharply as he explodes. Pulling away slightly, James looks at him, eyes glassy and unfocused.

"James," Sirius groans, rather exhaustedly.

James's response is nearly a growl. "Don't you dare st—"

But Sirius hasn't.

"Oh —" James is rather clawing at Sirius's backside at this point. In Sirius's languid state, he doesn't even seem to feel it. His eyes open into little slits so he can watch James, moving his hand even faster now.

"Si—" The rest of Sirius's name disappears against the skin of his shoulder as James buries his face in his skin, holding on for dear life as his body convulses.

"Aaah," breathes Sirius, his hand slowing gradually. He sounds pleased with himself, almost smug really. James mumbles something against him.

"What?"

"I said I told you it was a good morning."

Sirius's laughter is lazy, muffled and bright. James reaches up to press a quick kiss to his lips. 

"Well," says Sirius, stretching a little, slowly. "I guess you were right."

"I usually am." 

Sirius snorts, but in deference to the deep, sated feeling he's enjoying, forebears commenting on that.

Resting his head on Sirius's chest, James adds, "So is Evans."

"Lily?" asks Sirius, his voice suggesting he doesn't understand why James would bring anyone else into this conversation at all.

"Mm." James yawns. "Who knew she was so wise."

"Er… Remus?" Sirius offers half-heartedly. He's grinning affectionately at James for some reason that probably has a lot to do with adorableness and yawns.

"Yeah, well, he doesn't count." James yawns again, then stills. "What time is it?"

Sirius glances toward the window rather than the clock, because James's face is blocking that. "About 9… 10, maybe."

"And it's Sunday, right?"

"Yeah…" Sirius lifts his eyebrows curiously.

"Didn't we promise mum we'd be over for breakfast today?"

"Oh…shit."

James has a look on his face that's half amusement, half something resembling panic. "How long until she's popping her head into the fireplace and shouting until we come over?"

"Um." Sirius does some quick mental calculations, also looking the slightest bit panicked. "If it's half nine, then we've got maybe twenty minutes, I reckon."

"Better get a move on, then." James sits up, somewhat ruefully. "I need a shower." 

"We both do, actually," replies Sirius, a trace of a smug smile showing.

Grinning, James plants one final kiss on Sirius's lips before standing up. "I call first dibs."

Sirius's smirk grows, the same wicked light from earlier in his eyes. "I'll give you seven minutes. Then it's my turn… whether you're still in there or not."

Halfway to the door, James turns around to give him a rather brilliant smile. "I'll blame you if we're late."

"Not-Mum'll forgive me."

"Keep telling yourself that," James calls from the hallway. "And make us some coffee while I'm in the shower, yeah?"

"Bossy," mutters Sirius, but under his breath, so James can't hear him. He climbs slowly from the bed, smiling very, very widely.


	10. 21–27 November 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys spend some time being nice to each other.

**Monday, 21 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You have some experience with Muggles, right? My best mate claims that all Muggles sleep with their heads under their covers. She says she saw it in some sort of Muggle moving picture. Can this really be true? I asked my parents but they didn't know. /Evan, aged 10** Dear Evan, Um, no, they don't. I'm fairly positively certain. Er. Why would they? Strange. Very strange. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My girlfriend and I have been together about six months and everything's been great until recently. I was on holiday and decided not to shave, as you do. I now have a rather impressive beard in the making. Problem is she really, really, really hates it and more or less demanded that I shave it off. I told her it's my chin so it's my business, but she's still being difficult. Who's in the right, here? /Danny** Dear Danny, I think you're both wrong. Obviously, she is not respecting your right to do whatever you want with your own body (this should not be taken to extremes, but as we're talking about a _beard_ , well, I don't think we're in danger of that), but at the same time, you don't seem to be paying attention to the fact that, as you're together, whatever you do with yourself is necessarily going to affect her. And she really, really, _really_ hates the beard. Sirius, who is not fond of lumberjacks himself 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You seem a very stylish young man. What colour curtains should I buy for my kitchen? I have pale lilac walls and a green carpet. Sincerly, Mrs P. Hawes, Nottingham** Dear Mrs Hawes, Oh, lovely! I do love this kind of question! Your kitchen sounds charming. I would recommend some nice white curtains, possibly with a (flower?) motif in green and purple of complementary shades to your carpet and walls. Or possibly simply white lace. White, you see, is nice. Like rice. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have this friend who's brilliant and fantastic and super in every way. Problem is, all the boys think so too! Every guy we ever encounter seems to fall head over heels for her -- including all the ones I'm keen on! I feel like I'm doomed to be the frumpy best mate forever. What should I do? I really don't want to lose her friendship as it's not even her fault -- she's not interested in most of these blokes! /Plain Jane** Dear Jane, I suggest you fab yourself up a bit. Or frump your friend down a bit. At least occasionally. A world of possibilities are sure to open themselves up. (Alternately, kill her.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just saw my first live Quidditch match this past Saturday (Arrows vs Magpies) and it was brilliant. Were you there? It was a smashing day out. Anyway, I have limited funds and I wanted to ask you: If I see just one more Quidditch event this season, which one should I pick? /Newbie Quidditch fan** Dear Newbie, I was, indeed there. (Briefly, but don't tell my editor that.) If you're only going to attend one more event, I would go with the last Portree game. Or, well, season enders are usually good, too. I really couldn't tell you — the thought of only attending _one more match_ this season is kind of... upsetting. (Don't tell my editor _that_ , either.) Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 23 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you got any nicknames? If so, what are they? /Meg (short for Margaret!)** Dear Meg, I have a few, yes. Well, a couple at least. Some of my friends call me Padfoot (don't ask), and occasionally the brave ones call me Si. My name doesn't lend itself well to nicknames, I'm afraid. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'd just like to comment on Danny's letter. Perhaps the reason his girlfriend hates the beard is because it's irritating her skin? My husband did a Danny recently and I got the most horrid case of beard rash. After I told him he wasn't getting anywhere near me until that thing was either long enough not to be prickly, or until he removed it.... well, let's just say it worked out to my advantage. /Kellie** Dear Kellie, Thank you for writing in. That is indeed something Danny's girlfriend ought to take into consideration. (Naturally, I was not in a position to advise such a thing having never had any experience on either hand of beardburn.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you got any plans for this coming weekend? I have a spare ticket for the ballet. Love, Lisette** Dear Lisette, Ooh, I love ballet! (Er.) Like. I mean I like ballet. Unfortunately, I think my weekend is all booked already. What with Saturday Quidditch matches and Sunday commitments to Not-Mum, I expect to be quite busy. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever seen any Muggle movies? If so, which one is your favourite? I'm very fond of this one called Jaws, myself! /Ian** Dear Ian, I have, indeed, seen several Muggle movies. I am a huge fan of the cinema. Jaws was... acceptable. I like the drinking song. It's fun. (And appropriately annoying to people other than oneself, particularly those who are sober.) As for my favourite movie... Ever heard of National Lampoon's Animal House? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My cousin was at Hogwarts with you! She was in Hufflepuff though and a year below you so I don't know if you know who she is. Either way, she was showing me all these pictures and there was one of you! When was this taken and who are the other people in it? /Alejandra, Elisa's cousin** Dear Elisa, Was she, indeed! How interesting. Likewise for that picture. It appears to have been taken on Hallowe'en of my last year — oh, what fun I had then. Terribly sad how times have changed... In that picture there's me (of course!) and my fab best mate, and our hairy friend Remus, and that's his enchanting girlfriend, my darling Lily, and her friend Mary. And Peter Pettigrew is also there. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 25 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you a morning or a night person? /Night owl** Dear Night owl, Generally, I am nocturnal... though I've recently discovered certain benefits to mornings which might possibly change my mind on the subject. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it true that you are going out with Ellen Saunders of the Appelby Arrows? /R.S.** Dear R.S., That I'm _what_?! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You are a doll. And thank you for not printing the picture in question; isn't that the one where I'm wearing a Little Bo Peep outfit and Remus was supposed to be a sheep but he's chickened out and only wore the ears? Brilliant night on Saturday, you two are fabulous. Should do it again soon. Love, L the Enchanting PS: Tell J he needs a haircut.** Dearest Lils, Well, I was hardly going to let them print anything in which I was dressed like that, was I? The fact that you were Little Bo Peep and therefore wearing frilly pink of a shade that definitely did frightening things for your hair, was merely incidental. As for Remus, his sheepish expression was almost a costume in itself, don't you think? The mental images I got from that night were sooo not the kind I needed to relive. Oh, I agree. It _was_ a brilliant night, and we _are_ fabulous. We should _definitely_ do it again soon. Thanks! Sirius PS: He absolutely does not, and I absolutely will not. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I need girl advice, mate. I met this bird who I really like, yeah, and we went out for drinks, and I thought we had a good time but I haven't heard anything from her since and she never answers when I Floo her! What's up with that? Do you reckon she's ill? Should I bring her soup? /Confused** Dear Confused, I reckon soup would be a bad idea, mate; it sounds like she didn't come away with nearly as positive an opinion of your date as you did. Or else she's been snatched by Lethifolds, in which case soup is really not going to help, unless it's Patronus soup, in which case... well, you've got bigger fish to fry. Bad luck, there. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What sort of toothpaste do you use? /Anna** Dear Anna, The blue kind. Sirius  
---  
  
**

WARNING: NC-17/MA content below.

**

* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
26 November 1983  
8.58 am**_

Like the slight chill in the air, the morning light filtering past the sternly drawn curtains has no apparent effect on Sirius, who is laying on his stomach, on the side of his bed farthest from the door. His arms are both shoved under his pillow, smushing it closer to his face, and one leg is drawn up, the knee visible from under the duvet, which everywhere else is tucked tightly, defensively around him.

The door opens a fraction and a rather wet-looking James Potter peeks in. "Si?"

"Mmjamph," is the mumbled reply, spoken without Sirius apparently moving any part of his body.

James seems to take this as an invitation, pushing the door open further and slipping in under the covers on the free side of the bed. Pressing a kiss to the back of Sirius's neck, he mumbles "Good morning."

"You're letting in a draft," Sirius mutters, face still in his pillows. "'s cold."

Tucking the covers more securely against the both of them, James asks, "Is that better?" Then, for good measure, he wraps his arm around the other man's waist.

"Toasty," Sirius assures him, with a happy little sigh, turning his head to nuzzle toward James. "You smell like soap."

"Just had a shower."

"Mm, me too."

James laughs a little. "And then you went back to bed?"

"Comfy," is Sirius's explanation, as if he finds it completely reasonable. It's spoken around a smirk, however, so perhaps he realises how lazy he's being.

"It's a gorgeous day," James mumbles into his hair, snuggling up closer against him. "Birds are singing, children are playing…"

"People are trying to sleep…"

"I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" The hand on Sirius's waist has moved down slightly to curl around a hipbone.

"Not as such," Sirius replies, edging closer. "If you stop that, however, we might have a problem."

"What kind of problem would that be?" James asks, skimming his fingers lightly along Sirius's thigh.

Sirius manages a smile, as he rolls onto his side, angling his head so he can tuck his face against James's neck. "The pouty, neglected Sirius kind," he murmurs.

"I hate that sort of problem."

"Really?" chuckles Sirius, accompanying the word with a lingering sweep of his lips over James's skin. "And here I thought I was adorable…"

James chuckles. "You're delusional."

"You're mean," Sirius counters promptly. Draping one arm around James's waist, he tilts his head back and murmurs, "You should make it up to me."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" James says, grinning. "Sing you a song? Bake you a cake?"

"You could start with a kiss." Sirius smiles slightly. "That's always a good beginning."

James raises an eyebrow at him. "Is that how you got out of trouble back at school?" Nevertheless, he presses a light kiss to the corner of Sirius's mouth. Turning his head, Sirius takes advantage of this action and claims James's lips in a proper, greedy kiss. "Now I see why I had more detentions than you..." James mumbles against his lips as they come up for air.

Sirius is smirking, and using the arm around James to pull him closer. "Because you weren't as sneaky?" he suggests innocently.

One of James's hands brushes over a flat nipple. "I'm plenty sneaky."

Sirius draws in his breath sharply. "Yeah?"

"Mm."

"And yet you had more detentions," Sirius accuses, the hand around James's back drifting down to his buttock.

"Strange how those things work out, isn't it?" James mumbles, his mouth migrating from Sirius's lips to his jawline, down his neck.

Sirius is tugging James's hips closer to his own. "I suppose…"

James, however, resists his grasp as he bites down lightly on a tendon where Sirius's neck meets his shoulder. Sirius groans something that sounds like maybe it is James's name. His fingers clench a little against James's skin, and he tips his head back. The grin on James's face as he continues downward to circle his tongue around a nipple is more than a little smug.

"Your hair's wet," Sirius announces, as if he had not noticed before, when said damp hair brushes against his chest.

"My hair took a shower, too," James states against his skin. "Would you rather I come into bed all sweaty from my run?"

"Hm," Sirius hums noncommittally. His other hand, which had still been hiding under the pillow, appears to curl itself in the damp locks under discussion.

"Didn't think so."

"Aren't you tired?" asks Sirius, peering down at James curiously. "From all that running, I mean."

James glances up at him, eyes maybe a little bit unfocused from the lack of glasses. "My stamina's excellent."

Which causes Sirius to smirk and chuckle. "Well, I knew that…"

There is a matching smirk on James's face before he returns to his task, pressing the flat of his tongue against Sirius's nipple, earning him a throaty noise from Sirius, followed by resumed pressure against his hip from Sirius's hand. "Stop that."

"What?" Sirius asks innocently, tugging again on James's hip.

"That." James pulls his hips away somewhat. "You're distracting me."

"That was rather the point," mutters Sirius, but he stops pulling. "Is there some reason you don't want to be distracted?"

James looks up at him again. "I thought you told me to make nice to you."

"Yes, but—" Sirius stops, looking torn between confusion and hopeful anticipation.

"Shut up and let me, then."

"Let you what, is the question," but after that Sirius obediently closes his mouth, instead watching James in eager silence.

"… now you're making me self-conscious," James complains, meeting his gaze.

Sirius grins, and pulls on James's hip again, rather teasingly. "Well if I'm not supposed to talk I have to do _something_."

"Bloody hell," James complains, coming back up to capture Sirius's lips. Sirius chuckles into the kiss.

James appears intent on kissing reason out of him. After a few minutes Sirius, his eyes falling closed, grunts something unintelligible. His hand relaxes on James's hip, sliding up to sit innocuously at his waist. Seemingly happy with this result, James once more returns to the other man's chest. Sirius keeps his eyes closed, and doesn't again attempt to draw James's body closer to his, but he does shift his hips restlessly, eagerly, and tightens his fingers in James's hair.

One of James's hands come down to rest on the inside of Sirius's thigh.

"James..."

"No."

"But, James…" repeats Sirius, his voice still questioning, obviously after some explanation of the other man's intent.

"Be _quiet_ ," James insists, running his tongue down the centre of Sirius's stomach. His muscles leaping under the touch of James's tongue, Sirius makes a protesting, dissatisfied noise, but stops trying to speak. James's tongue dips into his belly button as he pushes the duvet covering both their legs down.

"Cold," mutters Sirius, but it doesn't sound completely as if he's complaining. He turns slightly further onto his back.

"Shh," James reminds him, the hand that's not on his thigh coming up to press on the opposite hip.

Sirius grunts, settling flat on his back and bending one leg at his knee. He doesn't seem the least bit embarrassed by his nakedness, his obvious erection, or the fact James is leaning over him. Seemingly satisfied with this, James's mouth remains on Sirius's stomach, while his hand travels to said obvious erection.

Sirius makes another small noise, like an impatient groan this time. His legs shift slightly, as if he can't keep them still. James moves slightly further down the bed, his other hand remaining on Sirius's inner thigh, keeping him in place. He presses a kiss to the join between Sirius's torso and left leg.

"Ja…" Sirius begins, before swallowing the word. His erection twitches, anticipating what Sirius now clearly expects.

"Hmm?"

Sirius shakes his, not speaking. The hand in James's hair tries to edge his head closer to Sirius's groin. James lets it.

Sirius only halts his hand when James's mouth is brushing the head of his cock. "James," he breathes pleadingly.

"What?" James replies, in barely a whisper.

"Come on…"

Somewhat hesitantly, James's tongue peeks out from between his lips.

" _James_ ," Sirius gasps, his fingers clenching.

James pauses, then bends his head slightly and licks a line up Sirius's cock, root to tip. Breath leaving him in a shaky gasp, Sirius's eyes fly open, to stare unseeing at the ceiling.

James pauses.

"Fuck," groans Sirius. "James!"

"….. I have no clue what I'm doing here," James admits with a chuckle.

"And I thought you were just teasing me on purpose," mumbles Sirius, arching his hips a little, trying to attract further attention from James's mouth. James laughs slightly, but doesn't do anything else.

Sirius growls impatiently, lifting his head to glare down his body at the other man. "James, for the love of Merlin—"

"All right, all right!" James exclaims, bringing his hand back to the base of Sirius's cock and squeezing slightly. "All right."

"I— _fuck_!"

"I'll just wing it, shall I?" James asks, placing a kiss just above where his hand is. "Improvise?"

A strangled sound of assent comes from Sirius.

Trailing his lips upward, James wraps them around the very tip, his tongue once again peeking out slightly.

"Aaah," gasps Sirius, in a manner that suggests he's glad James got the point. So to speak.

Slipping him a little further into his mouth, James once more squeezes his hand. Moving his other hand to join its mate in James's hair, Sirius pulls the other man's head closer, thrusting his cock, a little roughly, deeper into his mouth. James makes a tiny, not entirely pleased noise, pushing down slightly on Sirius's hip with his free hand.

"Sorry," mumbles Sirius, gasping and forcing his fingers to relax a little. "Sorry, just, _fuck_!"

Seemingly taking this as a sign that his improvisation is working, James repeats what he was doing earlier, which turns Sirius's continuing string of incoherent apologies into a breathless, completely silent stream of profane encouragement. Spurred on, James relaxes his jaw slightly, slipping Sirius's cock a bit deeper inside his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tip. Sirius's fingers promptly clench and his hips attempt to arch upward, again.

James pulls his head up, letting Sirius slip from his mouth with a loud 'pop'. "Mate, are you trying to choke me, here?"

"Fuck, I'm sorry," says Sirius, not sounding all that contrite. "But you — I — Damn."

"Just stay still," James mutters, returning to his task.

"Bloody difficult," Sirius mutters, staring down at his cock disappearing into James's mouth, and going a bit glassy eyed.

Seeming to sense his eyes on him, James looks back up at him, their gazes connecting. Sirius moans; his eyes flutter briefly shut, and he swallows thickly before rasping, " _James_ …"

James answers with a moan of his own, the sound vibrating around the cock in his mouth.

"Oh, Merlin," Sirius groans, his body tensing with the obvious effort it takes not to press upward with his hips, his cock, to push further into the slick heat of the other man's mouth.

Apparently pleased with this reaction, James hums again, the hand on the base of Sirius's cock now moving up and down in short strokes. Judging by his almost painfully tight grip on James's hair, and the stiff tension quickly spreading from his hips to the rest of his body, Sirius is only barely managing not to demand that James... go faster, take him deeper, _something_.

This is not lost on James, who once more lets Sirius slip from his lips, murmuring, "Tell me."

"Harder?" Sirius promptly begs, not exactly clearly. James looks rather puzzled.

"You— Just—" Sirius seems at a loss for how to explain himself, though he should probably be forgiven since his brain is obviously not getting adequate blood flow for serious thinking. "Your hand — your… _mouth_ — please, just, can you — harder!"

Still looking more than a bit confused, James squeezes his hand on the upstroke. "Good?"

"Yesss, _fuck_!"

Grinning, James once more wraps his lips around the head of Sirius's cock, giving it a good hard suck. Sirius immediately utters a loud, gasping exclamation of pleasure, his eyes closing tightly. His hips lift, just a little, off the bed.

James's free hand pins him down rather hard, but he doesn't stop what he's doing.

"... yes..." moans Sirius, straining against James's hands, his mouth. 

Humming again, James speeds up a little.

"Gnn."

James chances a glance at him. Sirius's eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his head thrown back against the pillows, and his mouth open, though he keeps biting his lower lip, hard — it's rather red and swollen — and letting it go again. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, his breath coming shallow; the pulse in his neck is fluttering visibly, wildly.

James gives another hum. Sirius's breath catches. His cock throbs, swells.

Pulling his mouth away, James looks up at him again, slack-jawed. "Are you —"

"FUCK, DON'T STOP!"

Pausing only for a second, James resumes his earlier activities. Sirius gives a furious, satisfied moan. A few heartbeats later, he's letting garbled curses, and convulsing into James's mouth.

When James pulls away a few moments later, there's a not entirely happy look on his face. Sirius, his body gradually relaxing into a sort of almost-limpness, throws him a smile that would be wolfish if it were not so lazy.

"Sorry 'bout that," he says, in wholly unconvincing tones.

"No, you're not," James replies, flopping onto his back, his head next to Sirius's hip. He's still making a face. "Funny taste."

"Yeah, I s'pose." Sirius lets his arms drop to the bed, and smiles happily up at the ceiling. He looks _very_ satisfied.

James pokes his hip. "Am I forgiven?"

"Mm. What?"

"Forgiven. For being mean to you." James shifts in a rather obvious way.

"You were being mean?" questions Sirius. He lifts his head a little off the pillows, bringing up one of his hands to prop it more comfortably so that he can regard James with the proper amount of interest.

James just laughs softly.

By now, Sirius's eyes are moving down the other man's body, and instead of commenting on the laughter, he demands, "Why in the name of Merlin aren't you naked?"

"I was preoccupied."

"Which explains why you put clothes on!?"

"'S winter. Drafty." One of James's arms is covering his eyes; the other resting across his midsection. 

Sirius moves to sit up, in order to peer more closely at James. "You _were_ planning on getting into bed, weren't you?"

"Not 'til I saw you."

"…Uh-huh." Sirius seems a little perplexed by this. His hand comes over and begins playing with James's hair. "Did you not expect I'd be here?"

James laughs again. "I thought you'd be asleep, actually."

Sirius smiles wryly. "I almost was," he mutters, while his hands moves, down to James's chest; he leans down and plants a light kiss to James's mouth, the slight stubble on his jaw scratching James's arm, since it is still covering his eyes.

"Lazy sod."

"Mm, I just appreciate the value of a nice dream." retorts Sirius. His hand is creeping down James's chest, toward the arm across his abdomen.

"… do I want to know what sort of dream that would be?" asks James, drawing in a bit of a shaky breath as he removes the arm from his face, regarding the other man.

"Well the fun ones usually involve you," Sirius remarks, with misleading innocence. He bends his head for another kiss. James's hand comes up to rest in Sirius's hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Sirius's adventurous hand pauses, his attention apparently on his tongue, delving eagerly into James's mouth. Moaning slightly into the other man's mouth, James wraps his other arm around his back, pulling him down on top of himself.

"Angle," Sirius complains, breaking the kiss and lifting his head away slightly.

"Hm?"

"Angle," Sirius repeats, frowning at James's body, laying in the middle of the bed. "It sucks." He pauses. "Pardon the term."

James blushes slightly, which causes Sirius to smirk.

"I hate you," James complains as he scoots up until his head is resting on a pillow.

"Am I being mean?" asks Sirius politely. His eyes are gleaming. "Do I need to make it up to you?"

James's eyes go rather glassy as the blush deepens. "You don't have —"

Sirius smirks. Widely. His gaze flicks meaningfully toward James's hips.

" — to…" Whatever James was going to say dies on his lips at the look on Sirius's face.

Sirius's teeth flash briefly as he starts to move down closer to the other end of the bed. James swallows rather audiably.

Sirius puts a hand on the hip farthest from him, fingers curling around the top of his thigh. "You know," he murmurs, "I really do wish you were naked."

"Do something about it, then."

"Rather unfair," Sirius says, still complaining, while easing his fingers under the band of James's underwear — all he's wearing — and beginning to pull them down. "You shouldn't have put anything on."

James lifts his hips off the bed in assistance. "Silly me."

Sirius nods his agreement, tossing the garment rather violently aside. " _Very_ silly." He promptly returns his hand, and his attention, to James's hips.

"Problem solved?" asks James, flopping his head down onto the pillow.

"Only if you plan on burning all your clothes and never, ever leaving this bed again," Sirius counters, rising up on one elbow and angling himself so that James's erection is beneath him. Head bent, he glances up, through his lashes, toward James's face. "Do you?"

"Um."

Sirius chuckles deeply, his hand gliding from hip to crotch, stroking lightly down James's cock.

"I think… I think my coach might start wondering what's happened to me, if I do that," James states rather breathlessly.

"To hell," declares Sirius firmly, leaning so his breath brushes James's skin, "with your coach."

James's eyes flutter closed. "Now who's teasing?"

Sirius leans a little more, his tongue darting out over the head of James's cock. "Payback," he says simply.

"Shit," James lets out, exhaling sharply.

"Mm." Sirius's tongue swipes his lips which he then presses, parted and glistening, to James's dick just beneath the head.

"Shit," James repeats, one of his hands flying to the back of Sirius's neck seemingly of its own accord.

Without his lips losing contact with the heated skin, Sirius's mouth moves up to close around the tip of James's cock. James's fingernails dig into the base of his skull. Sirius, lips still around him, glances up once, quickly, to James's face, and then begins to slide down, taking more of James into his mouth.

The noise that slips from James's lips is somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and accompanied by his other hand coming up to rest just above the one on Sirius's neck, curling into his hair a bit. Sirius is humming, rather like James had done, this deliberate and drawn out, as he continues to ease his way down James's cock.

"Shit, shit," James repeats again. "Holy shit."

Sirius pauses, for maybe a half a second, to take a deep breath. Then, while one of his hands curls around to cup James's balls, he slides the rest of the way, until his lips are against the hairy skin of James's groin.

James's eyes, by now, are rolled back so far he should probably be able to see through the back of his own head. "G — oh —"

Moving back up, Sirius slowly begins to bob his head. Both of James's hands are repeatedly flexing and clenching at the back of Sirius's head. Sirius speeds up slightly.

"Shit — oh — _Sirius_ — oh dear bloody Merlin —"

Inhaling, Sirius's mouth and throat tighten around James's cock.

By now, James is definitely babbling. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck," followed by something that sounds like a mix between Sirius's name and a hiss.

With this encouragement, Sirius speeds up even more.

"Merlin," James gasps, hand finally gripping Sirius's hair — rather firmly, too. "Oh, shit, you're gonna kill me. Fuck."

Sirius hums again, rather smugly, pulling up just long enough to swirl his tongue around the head of James's cock.

"Shit, shit," James chants, "oh, shit, oh, stop, stop… no, no, don't, don't stop —"

Sirius's mouth remains, hot and insistent, around him, moving steadily up and down. James's babbling is only occasionally interrupted by a loud moan; both of his hands now firmly nested in Sirius's hair. His head is thrown back, mouth open, eyes tightly shut.

The hand not cupping James's balls, Sirius has on James's hip, where his thigh meets his torso, lightly stroking. He stops bobbing for a moment, sinking all the way down again and staying there, sucking.

"Sirius," James whimpers, pulling at his hair. "Stop, stop, I'm —"

Sirius doesn't budge, keeping up what he was doing.

" — _now_ , Sirius — " There's a slightly desperate tone to James's voice as he keeps clutching at Sirius's hair. "I can't —"

Sirius hums something that seems to be equivalent to the word "Don't."

"Stop," James says once more, without much conviction. The rest of his babble comes out as an incomprehensible mess as he comes. Hard.

Sirius remains where he is for a few moments longer, milking every last bit of pleasure from James. When he finally lifts his head, the first thing he says is, "So how come you get to talk on that end and I don't?"

James, however, seems to finally have run out of things to say; Sirius, propped on his elbows above James's hips, smiles up at him rather affectionately.

"Shit," James finally manages, more of a sigh than an actual word.

"Thank you," replies Sirius.

"Shit," James says again, with a small chuckle. "What?"

Sirius is grinning smugly now. "Also, you're welcome."

"I think you killed me."

"I know," Sirius says, his voice something close to a pleased growl.

"C'mere," James mumbles, slightly pulling at Sirius's hair.

Sirius obediently crawls, still above James, until their heads are next to each other. "Hi."

James pulls him down on top of him. "Bloody hell."

"That all you can say?"

Laughing, James gives him a swift kiss. "Please tell me that wasn't the first time you did that."

Sirius barks a laugh of his own. "Why, don't you want to be my first?" he asks, pretending to flutter his lashes coyly.

"I don't want to feel horribly inadequate, more like."

"Well, don't, then," replies Sirius, dropping a kiss on James's forehead. "You're not."

"Mm," James hums, closing his eyes. "Fucking _hell_ , Si."

"Mmm." The self-satisfied expression on Sirius's face looks to become rather permanent. "You're welcome."

"I didn't say thank you."

"Yeah, I rather think you did." Then Sirius kisses him to shut him up.

When James comes up for air a few minutes later, it's to shove at the other man's shoulders. "Move, you great big lug."

Half-heartedly growling something about having been comfortable, Sirius flops over so that he's laying on his side next to James, with an arm draped across his chest and a leg slung over both of his.

"Thank you," James says, turning his head slightly to nuzzle into the crook of Sirius's neck. "Breathing is nice."

"Not all the time," Sirius reminds him, with a leering smirk. He winks.

James raises an eyebrow. "Not even through your nose?"

"Well, of course a bit, but… Can _you_ breathe through your nose and suck cock at the same time?"

Sirius's words causes James to blush rather furiously. Sirius snickers. James does, too, still blushing bright red.

"Sorry," Sirius says around his snickers, "I just _had_ to."

"You're horrible."

Sirius is unfazed by this accusation. "You weren't complaining earlier."

"Fuck, no, I wasn't." The blush on James's face is by now accompanied by a rather sated smile.

Burying his face in James's shoulder, Sirius murmurs something, about which the only thing that can be distinguished is the smug tone.

"What was that?"

"I am proud of myself," Sirius repeats, words against James's skin, satisfied and warm, followed by a kiss. James elbows him in the ribs. "What? You don't think I ought to be?"

"Have I ever told you what a complete egomaniac you are?" James asks, turning to his side, once more nuzzling his face into Sirius's shoulder. A pause. "That was fun."

"Yep." Closing his eyes, Sirius smiles. "Should do it again sometime."

James mumbles something not quite audible.

"What was that?" Sirius asks, deliberately saying it exactly as James had a moment ago.

"I said I didn't think I'd enjoy that as much as I did," James repeats into the other man's shoulder.

Sirius lifts his head. There's a vaguely surprised look on his face. He arches a brow questioningly. "The blowjob, y'mean? Fuck's sake, _why not_?"

This comment ears him another elbow to the ribs. "Doing it, you prat."

"Oh." Sirius tucks his head back down against James. "You did actually enjoy it, then?"

"Mmm." A pause. "Maybe not the, er, finale so much."

At this, Sirius can't stop himself from grinning. "Taste really bother you that much?" He bites James's shoulder gently, apparently for emphasis. "Or was it the, er, complete lack of warning?"

"The latter mostly, I think." James grins, lifting his head up to regard the other man. "That's just bad manners, you know."

Sirius somehow manages to look sheepish and unrepentant at the same time. "Well, I was rather distracted."

"Uh-huh."

"Rather _thoroughly_ distracted," Sirius adds.

James shakes his head.

Turning his head, Sirius presses a kiss to the side of James's neck. "You know," he says, "I think I forgot to thank you."

"Really?" James asks, stifling a yawn. "What d'you call _that_ , then?"

"…being nice?"

"I had no idea you could be that nice."

"Then you lack imagination," Sirius accuses, without any sort of heat in his voice whatsoever. His body inches closer, snuggling toward the warmth of James's. Then softly, " _I_ knew I could be that nice, to you."

James's breath hitches a little, his hand coming up to stroke through Sirius's hair. He doesn't say anything.

His voice deeper, gruffer, muted and roughened by encroaching sleepiness, Sirius remarks, "Used to think about it, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm," definitely edging toward dreams now, "wondered if I — if you'd like it. Enough."

James's cheeks are once more rather flushed. "More than enough."

"Good." Sirius yawns, aborting the action halfway through as requiring too much energy. "…will remember…"

"Go to sleep," James mumbles, running his hand through Sirius's hair once more.

"…am asleep…"

"And yet you're talking," James whispers with a grin, pressing a light kiss to the other man's cheek.

Sirius _almost_ smiles tiredly. "…talented…"

James doesn't argue with this. With a rather contented hum, Sirius nuzzles James a final time, then seems to, finally, doze off entirely.


	11. 28 November–4 December 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have an awkward moment while watching infomercials.

**Monday, 28 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You recently said that one of your nicknames is Si. How do you pronounce that? My name is Cyrus and my nickname is Cy and I was just wondering if they were the same! /Cy** Dear Cy, No, I don't think they are. Yours looks like it's pronounced 'sigh', whereas mine is more like 'see'. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a very trustworthy source placing you in a Montrose café last Saturday, talking very intimately with miss Saunders (who is a very fetching girl, if I may say so!) Are you denying that this is true? R.S.** Dear R.S., No, I'm not denying that. I was in a Montrose café with ms Saunders... conducting an interview. I'm a sports journalist, remember? _Definitely_ not dating the woman. (No offense, ms Saunders.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, WHY are all men so obsessed with breasts?! They're just fatty tissue and milk glands, for goodness' sake! Yet it seems that's all men ever think about. My last boyfriend broke up with me because mine weren't big enough! What is wrong with you lot?! /B cup** Dear Bea, I think the male obsession with breasts has a lot to do with subconscious perception of fertility. I have no idea why men as a whole are so preoccupied with them. I've very sorry about your boyfriend, however; clearly, if superficial things were that important to him, then he didn't deserve you. Sirius PS: I could ask what is with female preoccupation with certain parts of the male anatomy, but I am restraining myself. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Exactly what were you dressed as in the picture sent in by Alejandra? Could we bribe you into printing it? /Curious** Dear Curious, Over my dead body. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I hope you've had a nice weekend. I was just wondering if there's any possibility of following you at work one day, for an article in a local paper I run? Let me know! /Aspiring journalist** Dear Aspiring, Well, I _am_ flattered! There is such a possibility, though the person you really have to talk to is my editor, I think. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 30 November 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your favourite alcoholic beverage? Sex on the beach, perhaps? /Susie** Dear Susie, Actually, I like Firewhiskey, and I like it neat. I also like a good red wine, but I'm really not one for mixed drinks. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Now we REALLY want to see that Hallowe'en picture! (Maybe your roommate can be bribed.) /Lee** Dear Lee, Well, you can't, because if he knows what's good for him, my roommate can't be bribed anymore than I can. Besides, he probably doesn't want the world seeing that hat he was wearing... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any tips on how to get blood out of carpets? No magic is working! /Desperate** Dear Desperate, I'm going to refrain from asking the obvious question, because I have class, and recommend you try some cold water, and um... baking soda? (I don't know much about Muggle cleaning methods, I'm afraid.) Or, you could always just replace the carpets. Blood is an excellent excuse for that sort of thing. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever considered a career on the Wireless? I've never heard you speak but I'm sure you have a very sexy voice. /E.P.** Dear E.P., My voice is highly sexy. I don't know how I'd like working on the Wireless, though, as I've never tried it... I'm actually supposed to do a live interview, which would of course be on the Wireless, sometime in the next few months, but I'm not supposed to talk about that. It's to be a _surprise_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Were you named after anyone? Do you have a middle name? If you could choose any other name for yourself, what would it be? /Rhian** Dear Rhian, I wasn't named after anyone, as far as I'm concerned. I do have a middle name. I'm very not proud of it. I think someday I might change my middle name to Alphard, but at this point I don't think I could ever stop being Sirius... Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

__**Residence of James Potter and Sirius Black  
30 November 1983  
8.35 pm**

"Bloody Kestrels," James mutters to himself, flicking the Wireless off with his bare foot and leaning back on the sofa. There is a large glass of something very pink and sugary-looking in his hand, and breadcrumbs all over his lap.

On the jamb of the door into the hall, the fingers of both Sirius's hands appear, swiftly followed by the top of his head in the eight-inch space between them. Only down to about the middle of his nose is visible, but what can be seen is busy looking very quiet and non-irritating.

"The game's over, you can come in," James says, not looking at him. "Kenmare won."

"Told you," whisper Sirius's unseen lips, followed by the louder "Bloody Kestrels." The rest of his body emerges into the living room.

"I hate that team, you know."

"Yes," says Sirius solemnly, approaching the couch, pulling his wand from his pocket as he walks. "I think you may have mentioned it to me before. Once or twice. In passing."

"Mm," James agrees, taking a big gulp from his nearly fluorescent drink.

"Er, James…?" Sirius points his wand and, tilting his head, cocks one eyebrow slightly in question.

"Go ahead," James says, waving a dismissive hand at the television set. "What're you watching?"

"Footy," replies Sirius promptly. He sits down on the very edge of the cushion closest to the end of the couch he's nearest. "Unless your monopolization of the living room airwaves means I've missed the game, in which case? Infomercials."

"Hurrah," says James, rather sarcastically. "Must be my lucky day."

"I love infomercials," declares Sirius happily, flicking his wand to flip to the appropriate channel.

"I know you do," James mutters, leaning against an armrest and putting his feet on the (rather large patch of) empty space between him and Sirius. Sirius doesn't say anything, as he's staring raptly at the TV, where an image of a woman demonstrating some kind of large, complicated device for 'slicing grapes at home for less than ordinary store costs!' is repeating steadily, while a male voiceover proclaims all of the benefits in an increasingly louder and more excited tone.

James looks at it, disbelieving. "Who the hell slices grapes?"

"People who make Waldorf salad," replies Sirius, without taking his eyes from the screen. "I still can't believe I found this channel. Now shhh!"

"You want me to shh for _this_?"

Sirius turns his head, just far enough that his eyes can cut to James. "You don't find this fascinating?"

"I'd say yes, but I'd be lying," James deadpans, taking another sip of his drink. "You want some of this?"

"Is it that stuff that made my teeth fuzzy last time?" asks Sirius, eyeing the beverage dubiously.

"No, that was the Green Guava and Gherkin," James says, holding out the glass. "This is Red Rocket Raspberry Rosehip."

"Aw, damn, I was hoping it was the fuzzy teeth thing," mutters Sirius. Turning his attention back to the infomercial, he extends his right arm toward the glass. "But Red Rocket Raspberry Rosehip I will try."

James is looking at the television screen, where the woman — who is smiling very, very widely — is demonstrating what a hassle it is to slice grapes with a knife. As two thirds of a grape flies unerringly into her eye, Sirius's fingers _almost_ connect to the glass. Letting out a loud laugh at the events onscreen, James lets go of the glass, and it slips right through Sirius's barely touching fingers.

"Fuck!" James lets out, leaping off the sofa. Bright pink liquid sloshes all over the space where he (and his feet) was just sitting.

Arm still extended, hand still in the air, Sirius stares at the neon liquid soaking rapidly into their formerly pristine white sofa. "It's like a sponge," he observes dispassionately.

"Bloody hell — _Scourgify_!" James mumbles, pointing his wand at the growing stain. The liquid vanishes immediately — the colour, however, does not.

Sirius continues to stare.

He hasn't pulled his arm in yet.

Muttering something else, James flourishes his wand. A thick white foamy substance covers up the bright pink stain.

"That kind of looked like a chimera," Sirius remarks, bringing his arm back while edging slightly away from the foaminess.

"Let's hope that works," James states, frowning. "We should probably leave it like that for a while, eh?"

"Well _I_ don't want to touch it," sniffs Sirius haughtily. "And I certainly don't want a bright pink chimera on our couch for the rest of eternity."

James rolls his eyes. "Budge over."

Before he's finished speaking, Sirius is flush against the arm of the sofa and his eyes are back on the television set. "… okay then," James says, frowning slightly. He sits down right next to the foam; there's about five inches of air between his thigh and Sirius's, and he's sort of leaning over the lathery bit of the sofa.

The lady with the elephant-sized grape slicer is showing of lots of tiny, intricate little attachments, while the male voiceover goes into nauseating detail on their functions and construction.

Sirius clears his throat and scoots further into the sofa arm. "There's, er, room," he mutters, his voice a little odd.

"Hmm?" James looks rather lopsided.

"You're going to get all… sudsy, sitting like that," Sirius explains, in that same odd mutter. "Don't want white stuff all over your… uh... trousers."

Sirius's cheeks turn slightly pink, but that might be because the woman is now modeling a skimpy orange bikini in order to demonstrate that the grape slicer even works with sand in it.

"Oh," James says, pausing slightly, before moving about half an inch closer to his best friend.

"… the best you've ever had, guaranteed!" the infomercial blares at them from the TV, while Sirius looks sideways at James.

"You're still awfully close to it," he mumbles.

"It's only, er, slightly corrosive," is James's reply.

" _Corrosive_?" Sirius repeats loudly. Without really thinking about it, he reaches out and yanks James further away from the stained section of the couch.

"Well, it's not something you want on your skin, but fabric's all right —" James trails off, looking down to where the length of his thigh is pressed to Sirius's.

Sirius doesn't seem to have noticed, as he is glaring sternly at James. "You do not put corrosive things on my couch," he admonishes, over the sound of several bouffant-headed housewives being interviewed for their (naturally, positive) opinion of the grape slicer. " _Especially_ while you're _sitting_ on it."

"It's not your couch," James replies rather automatically, still staring at their legs.

"Of course it's… my…" Sirius trails off, as he notices what James is looking at. His eyes dart downward too, and the next instant his hand, which had still been gripping James's arm, flies away, and he attempts to wedge himself even further into the armrest. He clears his throat.

"I payed for half of it," James says rather weakly.

"Should we get a grape slicer?" Sirius asks in reply, his eyes on the TV screen again.

"You don't even like grapes."

"We could use it on olives."

"I don't like olives."

The infomercial woman is back in her bikini on the beach, proving that the grape slicer can even — so conveniently! — make sausage slices smaller.

"You could use it on grapes and I could use it on olives, then," replies Sirius, shifting uncomfortably; his hipbone is jammed against a rather hard part of the armrest.

James observes his squirming for a moment. "This is ridiculous."

"Hm? No, it's the best you've ever had, they guarantee it," replies Sirius quickly, without looking at James. "And it's very inexpensive, too."

"I'm not talking about the ridiculous grape slicer, Sirius.´"

Slowly, Sirius turns his head to meet James's eye. "Oh." He swallows, arches a brow. "Oh?"

Rather methodically, James puts his arm on the backrest of the sofa, behind Sirius's shoulders. Sirius eyes it like it might secretly be a fatally venomous snake. James raises his eyebrows in what looks rather like a challenge.

After a moment, Sirius twists a little to face James, leaning back against the armrest and drawing one leg up so that it is more or less invading James's lap. There might be a slight blush covering James's cheeks and ears, but he turns his gaze back to the TV without saying anything.

"…much nicer than before…" the male voiceover is saying, probably in acknowledgement of the fact that this grape slicer is version eight-point-something, while a whole collage of smiling-bikini girls slicing grapes and other small things fills the screen.

"It was a bit silly, wasn't it?" says Sirius quietly, watching James's face for a change. James nods, keeping his eyes on the TV where the bikini girls have now burst into song, praising the grape slicer through the means of music and dance.

"… It was your fault, though," Sirius declares after a moment, having been distracted by the musical number.

"You're the one who dropped it."

"You're the oh-so-talented Quidditch star who couldn't _catch it_ ," retorts Sirius.

"I was already holding it!" James objects, turning to face him.

"Yes, and then you let go of it before I had it properly, and you didn't catch it."

"Sirius, no one has reflexes that quick."

Sirius sniffs haughtily. "I guess you're not as good as all that, then."

"Whatever you say," James replies, rolling his eyes. "Hang on, let me —" With a wave of his wand and a few muttered words, the foam covering the rest of the sofa disappears.

"… Fortunately for you," says Sirius, having leaned forward and to one side so he could see past James, "it doesn't appear that you've permanently damaged my couch with your corrosive… whatever it is… and I don't have to kill you."

"My couch, you mean."

"MY couch." Sirius tries to glare at him, but his eyes are gleaming.

James's indignant look is somewhat betrayed by the smile playing over his lips. "I'm the one who picked it out!"

As James does have a point there, Sirius pauses to consider this. "I'll fight you for it," he eventually offers.

"Can't we just share it?"

"I'm possessive."

James shrugs. "As long as you don't pee on it, I don't mind." Sirius reaches out to smack the back of the other man's head. "Ow! What'd I do?"

"I don't pee on furniture. Don't be disgusting."

"Last full moon you nearly ate a dead squirrel," James states flatly. "I don't think you should be calling anyone disgusting."

Sirius looks like he's considering smacking James again. James just grins at him. "Damn it," whines Sirius, his hand remaining in his lap.

"Are you gonna pay attention to your show or not?" James asks, letting the hand resting on the sofa drop onto Sirius's shoulder.

Sirius glances at the television. The grape slicer is now in the middle of the screen, for some reason surrounded by confetti, streamers, and flutes of champagne. "Er."

"Quality entertainment, this Muggle stuff." The sarcasm in James's voice is audible despite his grin. "Dunno how we ever lived without it."

"This station's owned by a Wizard," Sirius comments defensively, though he's back to staring at James.

"No!"

"Yeah. I think one of the people in my section at the Prophet interviewed him once. Thinks infomercials are just the greatest thing ever. Cool guy," explains Sirius. He seems to be looking rather intently at James's mouth.

"Too much money and too much spare time?" James suggests. "Although it _does_ have its advantages," he adds, staring at a particularly good-looking bikini girl who happens to be onscreen at that moment.

Sirius pokes James's ribs. Hard.

"Bloody hell, stop manhandling me!!"

"You were being a pig. I was defending women everywhere. Lily would have been proud of me."

James eyes him. "Is that so."

"Yes," Sirius insists virtuously, nodding.

"Just being chivalrous."

"That's me."

James looks doubtful.

"… You don't believe me, do you?"

"Should I?"

"Probably not," admits Sirius, grinning.

"Now who's the pig?" James grins back.

"Shut up." Sirius pokes him again.

"Stop that, it tickles."

Sirius just continues to poke him.

"Sirius!!"

Poke.

James squirms, putting some distance between them.

"… Fine, fine," grumbles Sirius, withdrawing his hands. "I'm done being provoking."

"Thank you."

"I do like poking you, though."

James's grin looks suspiciously like a leer. "Oh, I know _that_."

Even though he's grinning, Sirius rolls his eyes. "You _are_ a pig."

"Like you mind."

"Nah. 'S cute."

" _Cute_?" James asks, not sounding very impressed.

"Mmhm…" Sirius pretends to be paying attention to the television again.

"I am not _cute_."

"We've been over that already," Sirius reminds him, smirking. "That… first night… Remember?"

James's ears turn rather red again. "I'm not cute when I'm sober, then."

"I'll fight you about it?"

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because." Sirius pauses to leer at James. "I know where it would lead."

"Do you now." James raises his eyebrows. "Well, in that case, why don't we just skip the fighting and go straight to the —"

Before he can finish, Sirius has pounced, and is kissing him. James barely manages to click off the TV (where they've moved on from the grape slicer onto an electric letter opener) before his hands lose themselves in Sirius's hair as he kisses him back in kind.

* * *

**Friday, 2 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, HELP! I am 14 years old and an only child... until now! My parents just dropped this huge bomb on me that not only is my mother pregnant, she's having twins! My parents are over the moon and expect me to be too but I'm really upset. I don't know what to do. I don't want anything to change! /Reluctant big sister** Dear Reluctant, Look at it this way, if you want — your parents have thoughtfully provided you with unpaid entertainment and human house elves to make your declining teenage years more bearable. (I'm sure your parents aren't going to love you less, if that was your concern. Or if they will, then they fail at life and you should write me again so I can help you get revenge.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius and Sirius's snoopy readers, I can not be bribed to have that picture shown to the public, if it's the one I'm thinking of. There are some things the world does not need to see. I can, however, tell you this: Sirius is wearing something shiny in it. And showing lots of skin. /J.P.** James, Meanie. (It is.) Why would you go and mention something like that? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Since you're single with no one to make stuff for you, I knitted you this! I hope you like it! Love, Jenni** Dear Jenni, Um. Thank you... The pink is... interesting. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What was the name of your first girlfriend? /R.S.** R.S., Mary Christmas. Bugger off already, won't you? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do people ever make fun of your name? Or use it to make puns? It seems like the sort of name that would lend itself to that sort of behaviour. Believe me, I know. /Dick H.** Dear Dick, Actually, I'm lucky in that the only people who make jokes about it any more are... well, me. My sincere sympathies for your misfortune, though. Sirius  
---


	12. 5–11 December 1983

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys celebrate Sirius's birthday.

**Monday, 5 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you want for Christmas? /Nick** Dear Nick, Hungry Hungry Hippos and my two front teeth. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My brother's getting married on New Year's Eve and I'm his best man. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do! Have you ever been in a wedding? Got any useful tips? /Panicky** Dear Panicky, Why would anyone get married on New Year's Eve? I've never been in a wedding, no, and I've absolutely no idea how to go about being a best man. I think I'd die if anyone ever asked me. All I can suggest is that you not sleep with the bride, and not hire Brazilian strippers who are actually men, if you're in charge of the stag night. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your favourite 3 am snack? Favourite hang over food? /Brent** Dear Brent, For nighttime snacks I like biscuits and blackcurrant jam (together, of course, or I won't touch them). My favourite hangover food is — well, I like not eating when I have a hangover, actually. Coffee is good, though. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What're you and J doing Friday night? Mary and Stuart are coming over for dinner and we were thinking you two might like to join us. (You can bring those satiny shorts if you like.) Love, L** Dearest Lils, Er, actually, I think we're probably busy Friday night. (Shut _up_ , Evans.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, AAAAAAARGH! I was just informed (via Howler, no less!) that I'm grounded for the whole of Christmas holidays! I'm not even allowed to stay at Hogwarts, I have to come home and "stand up for my actions". Honestly, all I did was stay out a few hours too late during the last Hogsmeade visit, and it's not like I didn't already get a detention for it! Why are parents so unfair?! /Callie** Dear Callie, Parents are unfair because they see in you, their children, the wild and untamed sins of their infamous youth. Telling them that you forgive them for getting unreasonably mad because they're too mature to do the things you do, which they obviously still want to, is probably not a wise idea, however. Neither was letting anyone _know_ that you were out too late your last Hogsmeade visit. Tsk, tsk. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 7 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How about Saturday, then? And goodness, your advice leaves something to be desired sometimes, you know. Brazilian strippers who are really men? Do I even want to know? Tell J he's the best man if R and I ever get hitched. Just to be safe. /L PS: Happy birthday, you git. Your present is waiting at our house.** Dearest Lils, Er, I think we might be busy then, too. In my defence, you never know _who_ will think of Brazilian strippers, so it's best to be on the safe side. Would you really let James be best man just because of that? I knew you didn't really love me! Sirius PS: Thank you! 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Tell us something we don't know about you! /Caroline** Dear Caroline, I have a rubber ducky. And I recite poetry when I'm drunk. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What were you like as a child? /Mia** Dear Mia, Smaller. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Don't eat too much lunch. Something light. Have a good one; I'll see you tonight. Jxx** James, Pink? _Pink_? Hah hah, very funny. Are you going to come with me? You realise you'd better... I'll thank you for the cake when I get home. Si _Note from the Editor: I would also like to thank you for the cake, Mr Potter. However, the overly loud whooping that ensued from Mr Black's desk over chocolate fudge, which is a flavour that apparently never fails to induce that reaction... well, the staff here could have done without that. So, despite the five pounds I gained today, I do suggest you refrain from such adorableness in future._

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. My best friend since our very first day at Hogwarts just recently lost her sister in a car accident (my friend is Muggle born). She is completely torn up and I have no idea what to do. Please, I want to help her but I don't know how! /Useless friend** Dear Friend, I have, thank Merlin, never been in your position, though you have my deepest sympathies. I would think, however, that all you could really do is make sure she realises that you are there for her, and that she has your support. It's never easy to lose, or to watch someone close to you lose, a sibling. My condolences to your friend. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

__**Residence of James Potter and Sirius Black  
7 December 1983  
4.08 pm**

The front door bursts open with a loud, ringing Slam! that actually shakes the wall in which it is situation. A split second later, Sirius barrels through it, his right arm outstretched, waving about the paper clutched in his fist. There is a set of long, pink streamers dangling from behind either ear, running down the sides of his neck, rather like obscene pigtails.

He heads for the living room, and bellows, "JAMES!"

"Kitchen!" is James's reply.

In response, Sirius rushes through the living room and into the kitchen, where he barely manages to stop just short of throwing himself on James. The paper in his fist is waved wildly again. "James!"

"Yes?" James's casual tone of voice is somewhat betrayed by the huge grin on his face.

"Is this real?" Sirius demands, stopping the paper-waving long enough to thrust it toward James's face. He pauses, and spares a glance for the ice-creamy looking concoction in front of the other man. "And what is that?"

James hands him one of the violently pink drinks. "Pink Panties. Just for you."

Sirius stares a moment at the pink beverage in his left hand, then seems to dismiss it as temporarily unimportant, and turns back to James. "And my other question?"

"Well…" James says, looking at the piece of paper — which is rather hard, seeing how Sirius keeps waving it around — "I can see it, too, so unless we're having the same hallucination…"

"Prat," grumbles Sirius, looking like he's about to stomp his foot. "I meant— Are you really sending me to Milwaukee?"

"Sending?" James raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd be pleased. Did you like your cake?"

"I am pleased!" insists Sirius quickly. "I'm thrilled! And the cake was fantastic, the whole office loved it, thank you, _really_." He stops to take a sip of his Pink Panty. Then he stops a little longer to stare at it. "That was odd."

"Good odd or bad odd?" James, too, takes a sip. "Wow. That is odd."

"I think it's good odd," mutters Sirius, taking another drink. "But that might be because I like the name."

James raises an eyebrow. "Something I should know?"

Sirius stares at him a moment, as if considering something. Then, eventually, says "… Nah, pink's not your colour. Nevermind."

"Looks good on you, though," James says, reaching out to flip a few strands in Sirius's streamers-slash-hair-extensions.

"Stop it, you'll mess them up." Sirius moves as if to smack his hand away, then seems to realize that both his hands are already full. After a second, he purses his lips and blows vigorously instead.

"And what a tragedy that would be."

"You're the one who gave them to me," Sirius points out, his right hand beginning to wave the paper around again. The movement looks absent, or as if he's been doing it for a very long time.

"I'm not sure this is what I had in mind," James grins. "So…"

Sirius attempts to look haughty, and due to his pink accessories, fails epically. "Well, it's not as if I could give them to Mathilda Ermyntrude right away," he mutters.

"Uh-huh." James nods at the piece of paper. "Do I get to come along?"

The paper-waving abruptly stops. Sirius stares at him. "You don't _actually think_ ," he blurts incredulously, "that I would even consider going without you."

James shrugs. "It's not polite to assume things."

The waving of the paper furiously recommences under James's nose. "This trip — the Harley tour and everything — is for two, and it takes place in Milwaukee," Sirius says, as if this is significant. "Over New Year's."

"I know, Si, I'm the one who booked it."

The hand with the paper in it moves to Sirius's hip. He glares at James. "And why in the name of Merlin's buggering bunny slippers would I be going somewhere that far away over New Year's if you weren't with me?"

James grins. "A nice relaxing holiday?"

This earns a snort from Sirius. "Yeah, a nice relaxing holiday spent wondering which Pride's groupie you'd picked up to entertain you in my absence, and how I was supposed to kill her without ending up in Azkaban?" he scoffs. "No, thank you. Besides, I'd be lonely."

"Gee, Sirius, you sure know how to make a fellow feel appreciated," James states, deadpan. 

Sirius stares at him for a second or two, then swiftly sets his drink down on the counter, drops the all-important paper-of-exotic-milwaukee-vacation, and grabs James by the front of his shirt, pulling him in to give him a long, affectionate kiss.

"Improvement," James mumbles against his lips when they're finally released.

"Thank you," Sirius whispers fervently, then kisses him again.

"You're very welcome." James sounds rather pleased with himself.

"Excellent, excellent present," declares Sirius, stepping back. He bends to reclaim the dropped paper, setting it on the counter and smoothing it rather tenderly. He flashes a smirk at James. "Maybe not as good as this morning's…"

The top of James's ears go rather pink. "I thought I told you that wasn't your colour?" teases Sirius, reaching for his drink.

"Shut up."

"Make me?" taunts Sirius, but he looks more like he's begging.

"And here I've already gotten you a trip… and a cake… and a drink… and… pink shit," James grins, reaching out to touch a streamer again.

"Mm, pink shit," repeats Sirius, looking down at James's hand playing with the streamer. "Not that I know why you picked pink."

"'Cause you said — never mind."

Sirius's eyebrows rise slightly. "You got them before I said I like the name of this frou frou drink of yours."

James waves a hand dismissively. "You said something in your column."

Sirius blinks. "I talked about pink in my column?"

"Well, someone did."

"When?"

"I can't recall."

"James…"

"Hmm?"

"You remembered enough to get me pink streamers for Mathilda Ermyntrude, but you can't recall when they said it?"

James shrugs. "You know me, I focus on the important bits."

Sirius smirks again. "And all important bits are pink, aren't they?"

"Sirius!!"

"You were the one who said you focused on them," says Sirius defensively, grinning like a madman. "I was just agreeing they were important… And they could maybe use some special attention right now, I think."

"I am paying attention to them," James states, tugging at a streamer.

Sirius gives him a long look. " _Tonight_ his mind is not in the gutter?" he mutters, seemingly to himself.

"Or he's being obstinate on purpose," suggests James.

"Yes, it's possible he's only being dense to torment me," agrees Sirius musingly. He tilts his head to one side and regards James levelly. "Does he remember that I'm not very patient?"

"Maybe he's hoping old age has matured you."

"Maybe he's jealous because I'm 24 and he's not," Sirius counters.

James's grin looks especially cocky. "We can't all be young and beautiful."

"… True." Swiftly, Sirius leans in to kiss him.

"Mmm," James hums, pulling back a little. "Aren't you going to enjoy your Pink Panties?"

"In a minute." Sirius smiles. "You taste better."

Grinning, James slips his Pink Panty-free arm around Sirius's neck, pulling him closer. "Having a good one so far?"

"The best ever," avers Sirius solemnly, also slipping his free arm around the other man. James looks rather smug.

"Your head's inflating again," says Sirius with another kiss, and then uses his hips to push James back against the counter.

"Yeah, well, can't really help it when you're doing _that_ …"

With a smirk, Sirius kisses him once more, at the same time pressing forward again with his hips. James groans. "See?"

"Feel, more like," mumbles Sirius, his face in James's neck. "Did you really wanna finish your drink?"

"Well…" James pauses, tipping his head back a bit to give Sirius better access. "You know how I feel about brightly coloured beverages with a ridiculous amount of sugar…"

"But I'm brightly coloured right now," wheedles Sirius, tracing his lips up to James's ear. "And I can be ridiculously sweet, too."

"When you put it like _that_ …"

"I'm not exactly a beverage, though…"

James chuckles. "I'm sure you can think of a way."

"Don't give me ideas," chuckles Sirius, and draws James's earlobe between his teeth. "I've got enough of my own."

"Glad to hear it," James rasps.

"So… upstairs, away from the unsanitary aspects of being naked in the kitchen?"

"Maybe old age _has_ matured you, after all…"

Sirius snickers. "Not at all. I just know that I can get you to do more interesting things when you aren't uncomfortable."

"Like when a kitchen drawer knob isn't poking me in the arse, you mean?"

"Yes," agrees Sirius laughingly, setting his drink, again, on the counter. He begins to gently pull James from the room. "Better things to poke you with."

* * *

**Friday, 9 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Happy belated birthday! How old are you now? /Chelsie** Dear Chelsie, I'm twenty-four. I feel positively ancient. It seems as if I was twenty-three just last week... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, But you're not working. And it's not a game weekend for J. What gives? /L, who is keeping your present HOSTAGE until you visit. Or invite us over.** Dearest Lils, We just have plans, that's all. How about we come over on Sunday, maybe? After we go to Not-Mum's for breakfast, that is. Sirius PS: You said hostage. Is my present _alive_? 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your house like? How come you live with James Potter? I would have thought that the both of you, being the eldest sons in old Pureblood families, would be more than able to support living on your own? /Curious** Dear Curious, Our house is a little cottage-thing with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a very big living room. I live with James because I want to. I'm used to it. We _could_ live on our own. If we wanted to. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I too am going to a wedding on New Year's Eve! It seems rather popular, really. I have a problem, though; I don't have a date for the wedding. My grandmother is going to bother me and bother me and bother me about it. Are you doing anything in the morning? Because that would really shut her gob if I went with you, she really fancies you. Let me know! /Lisa** Dear Lisa, I don't suppose it's the wedding of anyone related to the Quidditch industry, is it? Because then I might consider it. (Weddings are serious things, you know. Attending them requires an excellent reason.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Your roommate sent you chocolate fudge cake for your birthday? I am so jealous. I don't suppose he's on the market, is he? /Chocoholic** Dear Chocoholic, Yes, he did. That's a rather personal question. He'd probably kill me for revealing that sort of information in a place where his fans could access it. I don't think I should answer. Sirius  
---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The guided tour mentioned in this chapter [totally exists in reality](http://www.harley-davidson.com/wcm/Content/Pages/Factory_Tours/wauwatosa.jsp?locale=en_US). Just so you don't think we pulled that our of our arses.


	13. 12-18 December 1983

**Monday, 12 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could be anyone else, alive or dead, for one day, who would you pick and why? /K** Dear K, It would be funny to be Dumbledore... or my (many greats)-Grandfather Phineas. But I think I'd really want to be James. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Happy belated birthday! I hope you had a nice one. I remember my 24th birthday very well; I got dragon pox and ended up in hospital for three months! Not very pleasant. Good thing my 25th was so much better -- my husband proposed to me that day! Which birthday has been your favourite so far, and why? /Ellen** Dear Ellen, Dragon pox? How horrid! I'm so sorry for you! My favourite birthday ever was either my 16th birthday, because I had awesome friends, or this last one, because I loved my presents. _All_ of them. Especially the one that Not-Mum made... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Unfortunately the wedding is between my lawyer cousin and his schoolbook editor girlfriend! No Quidditch ties whatsoever. Is that the deal-breaker for you? /Lisa PS: Doesn't your house have any bathrooms?** Dear Lisa, I'm afraid it is. Sorry! And yeah, my house has bathrooms, but who wants to talk about loos? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My sister is the most annoying person in the world! She's 25 and I'm 27 so we're both well and truly grown up. For as long as I can remember she has never been interested in boys. I know for a fact that her so called "friend" is really her girlfriend and has been so for at least a year, and she's not the first one either. I know both of our parents would be completely fine with this. Yet every time I ask her she denies being a lesbian! What should I do to make her confess? It's not like I haven't already known for ages! /Frustrated brother** Dear Frustrated, ... do you reckon, then, that she _has_ to confess? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just noticed you have rather perfect eyebrows. Do you tweeze? /R.S.** Dear R.S., Of course I bloody don't! It's genetics, dammit. Centuries of selective breeding had to have been good for _something_. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 14 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am writing this letter to you on Tuesday, which I am sure you know is two days after Sunday. Didn't you say you'd be over on Sunday? 'Cause you weren't. That's a bit rude, you know. L was most indignant. And no, your present is not alive... thank Merlin. /R.J.L. PS: When is J's next game? Can you get tickets for L and I?** Dear Remus, Oops. Sorry, mate. We got a bit... side-tracked. Apologise to Lils for us. And if my present isn't alive, does it at least move? As for James's next game, it's... tomorrow, actually. I suppose I could get you tickets, but it would be easier if you could wait until 7 January. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Well, I'm her brother! It doesn't matter either way, I just don't like being lied to. Why, don't you think she should tell me the truth? /Still frustrated** Dear Frustrated, Oh, no, it wasn't that. I was just trying to point out my objection to your choice of the word "confess" instead of a much less loaded alternative. As for forcing her to admit to it, you might try camping out on her sofa. If you have to, make up excuses not to leave. Be annoying persistent. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have it on good authority that you were in a romantic relationship with a young lady named Tessa Marksby for several years during your time at Hogwarts School. Was this your longest relationship to date? Was it a happy one? /R.S.** R.S., ... Do you EVER stop? Also, your "good authority" is _abysmal_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Selective breeding causes perfect eyebrows? I always thought it caused extra toes and stuff. Mind you, I don't know much about these kind of things, being Muggle born. What sort of selective breeding are we discussing here? (That phrasing makes it sound as though you're a dog; I apologise.) /Anon.** Dear Anon, In all honesty I think the selective breeding in my family -- which was of the "We shall only marry our children to the offspring (preferably attractive though that isn't necessary) of old, wealthy Pureblood wizarding families" variety -- just causes dementia, no extra toes or anything. That I know of; I've never seen my mother's feet, after all. Anyway. It _must_ cause perfect eyebrows, 'cause I don't do anything to them. (Oh, don't worry. I don't mind. This isn't the first time.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Don't you ever get sick of all these prying questions you're sent? I doubt that was the original intent of your column. /Sympathetic** Dear Sympathetic, Get sick? I'm already sick of them. At least the ones from "R.S." And no, it really wasn't. Hmmph. But thank you. It's nice to know I'm not the only one who finds them intrusive. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Preesall, Lancashire  
15 December 1983  
3.14 pm**_

Sirius is wandering through the produce section of the grocery near his and James's house. His basket is already half-full of various items, and he's peering intently at things he passes and muttering about high sticklers and vegetable tyrants. He pauses to look critically at some onions.

"Pardon me," comes a voice from his right. "I can't reach the leeks with your basket standing there."

"Oh, sor—Sorry!" blurts Sirius, turning to unblock the leeks and catching sight of something in his basket, which he hurriedly grabs onions to dump on top of. He flashes a smile at the girl. "There you go, missy. Better?"

The tall leek-seeking brunette's jaw drops. "Sirius Black?" she squeaks.

Sirius's smile becomes fractionally wider. "That depends. Who's asking?"

"I'm, um, Ivy," the girl replies, grabbing about a dozen leeks and dumping them in her basket. "Ivy Pierson."

"Hello, Ivy, Ivy Pierson." Sirius reaches for another onion or two, just to be on the safe side. "I am indeed Sirius — recognised me, did you?"

Ivy nods dumbly.

"Right off the bat?" continues Sirius, leaning casually against the leeks-onions-and-potatoes display. "You must be a fan, then."

Nodding again, Ivy says, "I always read your column — twice, even, unless the questions are daft — and I'm just — and what are you doing _here_?"

Sirius looks a little flattered, and indulgently replies, "Shopping, of course. Even newspaper columnists have to eat, you know!"

"But _here_?"

Sirius's smile falters for a moment. "Ah, well, you see, I'm on a mission."

Ivy blinks. "Where's James Potter?" she then asks.

"Where's—" Sirius's smile slips entirely, and he looks a little bemused, though this cannot possibly be the first time a reader has posed him such a question. "What do you mean?"

Motioning to the empty air next to him, Ivy explains, "I thought you two never went anywhere without each other." Next moment she's peering over the onions, as if expecting to see James standing next to the carrots or tomatoes.

Sirius clears his throat. "Ah. He's still at practice, actually. I'd have waited for him, but if he got home and we'd still had no food in the pantry, my bum would have been toast." This statement causes Ivy to giggle. "Besides which, supper would have been late," Sirius confides, rather extravagantly mournfully. "And that's never good, is it?"

"I guess not," Ivy agrees, peering up at him.

Sirius smiles again. "So, are you shopping for your mum, Ivy?"

Ivy looks appalled. "No!"

"No?" Sirius arches one eyebrow. "Roommate? Boyfriend? Sister? Yourself?"

"Myself," Ivy says, sounding rather proud of herself.

"Well," says Sirius, quite seriously. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Ivy says, still sounding pleased, and still observing his face.

"I'd probably never shop for just myself," Sirius muses. "Even though it IS fun…" Ivy seems to be too busy staring at him to reply. "I'd eat at restaurants all the time so there'd be no—" Sirius's voice trails off. He seems to have noticed the way she's staring. "I'm sorry. Is there something wrong with my face?"

Embarrassed, Ivy turns her gaze away, her cheeks reddening. "No! No. It's just… you look very like your brother."

The curious, half-smiling expression on Sirius's face freezes up instantly, and his eyes turn hard and distant. "Really," but it's not a question.

Ivy nods. "I'm sorry about your loss." She's addressing her shoes rather than the man opposite her.

"Yes. I— Thank you. He's… greatly missed." A muscle along Sirius's jaw is ticking. "You knew Regulus, then?"

"Vaguely," Ivy replies, still speaking to the floor. "He was a couple of years ahead of me at school. Same house."

An onion, previously occupying space near Sirius's elbow, wobbles mysteriously and falls to the floor. Sirius stares at it like he's never seen one before. "Ah. So, you're a Slytherin."

"We can't all be courageous and chivalrous, you know." The smile on Ivy's face doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Can't we, indeed," mutters Sirius a little dryly. He gives her another smile, this one looking maybe a little forced. "But no, of course I'm not going to hold it against you. I never hold anything but myself against pretty girls." Ivy blushes once more, although this time she looks rather more cheerful than earlier. "Sorry," Sirius says sheepishly. "Reflex?"

"Reflex?"

"The ill-timed flirting." Sirius waves a vague hand and another onion falls off the display. "Young women in groceries have that effect on me."

"Well, that sounds… annoying," Ivy supplies.

"Oh, it is," Sirius assures her. "You've no idea how many times I get smacked for it." Ivy just stares at him. "Which is annoying, because James smacks rather hard."

Ivy's eyes widen rather comically. " _He's_ the one doing the smacking?!"

Sirius mock frowns. "What, you think _women_ smack me when I flirt with them? I think I might be offended!" The girl's only reaction is to gawp at him some more. "No, it's only James who smacks me. He says that when we go shopping we don't have time for me to be picking up anything that smiles at me." Here Sirius glances, comically, at the onions. "Are they smiling? Do you reckon he counts vegetables?"

Ivy actually reacts by looking first at the onions, and then at the contents of Sirius's basket.

Sirius clears his throat to draw her attention back to his face. "So, do you think he'll object to them?"

"Not the onions, no," Ivy replies. "You got anything cheerful-looking in there, though?" she asks, nodding at his basket.

Sirius's cheeks might just have turned a bit pink, but it could be the girl's imagination. "Are crisps cheerful?" he asks, his voice a little odd.

"Well, it depends what you put in the dip…"

Sirius coughs loudly. "Yeah?"

"Yep."

"Well, ah, I like my crisps plain, so I should be safe, don't you think?"

"If 'safe' is what you're after," Ivy states, nodding.

Sirius gives her a look like she's said something strange. "Yes…" he ventures slowly.

Grabbing an onion and passing it back and forth between her hands, Ivy replies, "Sometimes wild can be fun, you know."

Sirius just looks at her, his face twisted, as if there's something he'd like to say but knows he shouldn't. Ivy glances up at him through her fringe. As she's rather tall, there are really only a few inches of air to dilute that look before it reaches Sirius, and he has to bite his cheek not to give a disbelieving laugh. "I'm terribly sorry," he manages to croak, looking at the ceiling instead of this girl who must, he thinks, be about fifteen. "I think I must have misunderstood what you just said…"

"What do you think I just said?"

"Well it sounded a lot like…" Sirius smothers a snicker with a cough. "… like it was maybe a come on."

Still playing with the onion, Ivy says, "Maybe it was."

Sirius expression becomes kind, and he smiles gently. "No, Ivy," he says firmly. "It was not a come on." He lifts one brow meaningfully.

Ivy's eyebrows disappear under her fringe. "It wasn't?" she asks, her voice rather high pitched. "Well, how about this, then? I live just down the street, I have nowhere to be until tomorrow afternoon, my neighbours are all old and half-deaf, and if you want, I'll cook you breakfast in the morning."

Sirius takes a moment to absorb this pronouncement, and then he gives a long sigh. "Now _you_ misunderstood, Ivy. It wasn't a come on — and _that_ wasn't, either — because if it were a come on I'd have to turn you down, and then you'd never agree to meet me here and go shopping together sometimes," he declares, not unkindly. "So you can see how it being a come on would be a problem, can't you?"

Ivy looks rather put out. "Why would you have to turn me down?"

"Because you've got a sense of humour and you're nice and you're… not ugly," replies Sirius easily. "Any girl I go out with always ends up being a mean hag with no sense of humour to speak of. And I'd hate to ruin you for the next bloke."

"… what?"

"Well, really," mutters Sirius. He now looks just the teensiest bit grumpy. "Regardless, I'm not supposed to pick up girls in grocery stores, remember?"

Frowning, Ivy glances down again. Her eyes seem to lock in on something in Sirius's basket. "… oh, I see," she mumbles, a small grin playing at the corners of her mouth.

Sirius also glances down into his basket, his eyes widen and this time his cheeks definitely turn pink. He grins sheepishly at Ivy. "... I suppose I could have just said I was taken, couldn't I?" he acknowledges, surreptitiously moving things around in his basket again.

Ivy nods. 

"What can I say?" Sirius shrugs. "I'm shy."

"I see," Ivy says in a voice that clearly says she doesn't believe him at all. "Well, as much fun as I'm having here with you, I should probably keep looking for food…"

"Yes," agrees Sirius, nodding. "I should, as well." He pauses. "About that shopping together I mentioned…"

"Yes?"

"Would you object to doing so now? Shopping together, I mean." Sirius grins brilliantly. "I like company."

Ivy grins up at him through her fringe again. "Are you sure James won't punch you out?"

"For _shopping_ with you?" Sirius maneuvers so that he's briefly linked arms with her. "Why would he?"

"I don't know, why would he?"

"The smiling carrots?"

Ivy laughs. "You're very random, Sirius Black, d'you know that?"

"You shouldn't sound so surprised, if you read my column," he returns, laughing and starting off away from the onions-leeks-and-potatoes.

"I'm going the other way," Ivy informs him. "I need shampoo."

Sirius changes direction immediately. "Right. Shampoo. I can do shampoo."

"Amongst other things," Ivy grins, nodding once more at his basket.

Sirius laughs. "Fair enough. Accompany me to the milk afterwards?"

* * *

**Friday, 16 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I would just like to tell the inquisitive brother who's been writing in regarding his sister's sexuality to butt out. It's none of his business, and I'm sure she'll tell him whenever she's ready. Sincerely, Matthew** Dear Matthew, Thank you. I'm sure wherever she is, Frustrated's sister appreciates your consideration. It's a pity her brother didn't think of it on his own... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you reckon it's dangerous to get hit in the head by a golf ball? /Concerned** Dear Concerned, I reckon it's probably only dangerous if you do not have a team of qualified medical professionals standing by. Why? Did you hit someone on the head with a golf ball? You're supposed to yell "THREE!" when you do things like that, you know. Hit golf balls, I mean. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, It's my girlfriend's birthday on Tuesday and I have no idea what to get her! We've only been together two months and I'm completely lost. Help! /Clueless** Dear Clueless, How about... cake? Cake is always good. Unless she's on a diet and then she'll think you're mocking her and then you'll get in _lots_ of trouble and won't get sex for a week. Very bad. SO maybe not cake. Try sparkly things, though, since most girls like sparkly things. Or something pretty and shiny. A scarf, maybe? (Hurrah for token gifts!) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How much coffee do you think is too much? My roommate drinks about seven cups a day and if he doesn't get all seven, he gets very grumpy and horrid. Should I exchange his brew for decaf when he's not looking? /Speedy's roommate** Dear Speedy's roomie, Do you have any idea the sort of treason you're suggesting!? Substitute decaf when he's not looking?! Sneaky, very sneaky. Also, completely _vile_. Though, seven cups a day does seem a _little_ excessive... I try not to drink more than four, myself. Except on special occasions, like Mondays, but those don't count. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm a city boy (from Glasgow) living in a tiny village, which I understand is rather like your situation. The lack of things to do here is driving me mad! There are just two pubs and one chippy and it's completely dead out after 6 pm every evening! How do you deal with the boredom? /Climbing the walls** Dear Climbing, Boredom? I can't say I'm ever usually that bored, really, but that's probably because if I ever feel things starting to get too tedious I hop on Mathilda Ermyntrude and go for a spin. Or else I pester my roommate to play a game of Exploding Snap. Only the truly rare occasion when I do get genuinely bored, I pop up to London for a bit, or clean. Usually pop up to London, though. Sirius  
---


	14. 19–25 December 1983

**Monday, 19 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, HELP! Okay, so about a week ago I went out clubbing with my mates and got very drunk. Apparently I got SO drunk that I agreed to wear a dress and let my female friends put makeup on me... and they took pictures! They're telling me they're going to show them to everyone I know if I ever make them mad. What should I do?! /Accidental transvestite** Dear Accidental, Don't make them mad. Obviously. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You often talk about your "not-mum" but never about your real family. What is your relationship with them like? /Laura** Dear Laura, My not-mum, or my real family? With not-mum it's wonderful. As for the other... it's nonexistent. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, UGH my roommate is driving me mad! You seem to get lots of roomie-related questions so I thought I'd ask you. My roommate (and best friend) is SUCH a night owl. I mean, I don't exactly go to bed at 8 pm myself either, but she's up until 3 am every night, making loads of noise and keeping me awake! I have to be up at 7 for work and as such it's a bit annoying. I've tried talking to her but she just brushes it off. What should I do? /Sleepless** Dear Sleepless, I suggest you knock her out before you go to bed. And tie her up. Then let her out when you wake up in the morning. Repeat. Eventually, she'll get the point. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who was your first ever celebrity crush? /Billy** Dear Billy, Gah, I don't remember. I tend to block them from my memory once I get over them. Probably some very gorgeous and talented but empty-headed singer on the Wireless. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Can you touch the tip of your nose with your tongue? /Liz** Dear Liz, I don't know, I've never tried. I can do other things with my tongue, however, which I think are rather more interesting... Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 21 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why nonexistant? That's very sad to hear! Especially with the holiday season coming up -- what are your plans, if you're not spending them with your family? /Laura** Dear Laura, Oh, I don't really mind that much; my blood relatives are positively dreadful. I'm going to spend the holidays with my best mate and his mother and our friends, just like I do every year. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I can do interesting things with my tongue, too. _[Content omitted by the Editor]_ Give me a call. /Cheryl xxxx** Dear Cheryl, Are you aware that this is a family publication? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know if there's any way of making yourself taller? I am only 5'1" and all my friends make fun of me! They call me a house elf, a goblin, a dwarf... I'm sure you get the point. I'm really sick of it! Any advice? /Linda, 14** Dear Linda, I feel immensely guilty, of a sudden. I suggest you eat lots of green vegetables and hang from your ankles as often as possible. Also, you could just wait until you get older; lots of people are midgets at 14, who will later grow up to not be midgets. Trust me. I know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever made any really stupid drunken bets? /Eric** Dear Eric, Well, I once bet my friends that I could eat two whole bowls of extra hot salsa without drinking anything or vomiting afterward... Which was unfortunately the same night I bet them that I could eat thirty cans of pineapple without vomiting. I'm sure you can guess the outcome. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend just broke up with me because I didn't want to sleep with him! Help! What should I do? I really love him! I am so torn up about this! /Pauline** Dear Pauline, I think you should... forget about him. He's willing to give you up just because you won't put out? Totally didn't care about you at all. He's so not worth it. Eat some chocolate ice cream and drool over my picture. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 23 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who was the last person you saw naked and vice versa? /Snoop** Dear Snoop, Do mirrors count? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Happy holidays! I was just wondering what your favourite colour is? /Rosa** Dear Rosa, Happy holidays to you as well! My favourite colour is black. Unless you're one of those sticklers who insist black doesn't qualify as a colour, in which case, it's red. Sirius 

* * *

**To the Blood Traitor; I shall thank you to cease libelling my family in this publication. It's not very honourable. Signed, A. Black** A. Black: Oh, shove off, _Gramps_. It's not like what I say isn't true, and you know that I wasn't the one who started it. Besides, according to you lot, I haven't any honour, so it doesn't matter _what_ I do. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have tried hanging by the ankles but it doesn't seem to be working! Were you short at 14, too? Is that what you meant? Because that might make me feel better! /Linda** Dear Linda, Obviously, you haven't tried it for long enough. No, I wasn't especially short, but my best mate was, and look at him now! (It's all due to how often I made him hang upside down, of course. And the brussels sprouts his mother made him eat.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the weirdest question you have ever been asked? /Carla** Dear Carla, I'm leaning toward the "naked" one from today. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Imogen Potter's Residence  
Minehead, Somerset  
24 December 1983  
6.36 pm** _

A soft carol is playing on the Wireless, filling the air with whispers of pixies and mistletoe, and Sirius is humming along with it in a rather agitated fashion. He's supposed to be helping James and Mrs Potter decorate her Christmas tree, but instead of hanging things on the tree he just keeps moving them in and out of their boxes. Every now and then he glances towards Imogen, who is winding a strand of tinsel around the pine.

"You know, Si, we could really use your help here," James says, hanging a purple bauble on a branch. "You're the only one who can reach the top branches."

"Only because you got me such a large tree," says Imogen smilingly. She pauses in her tinsel winding, and frees a hand to point at the glass phoenix in Sirius's hand. "Why don't you put that one over on that odd branch my son mangled?"

Sirius sends her a wide-eyed look. "Oh, er, right, yes," he grunts, and reaching up, hangs the phoenix a good three branches from where she suggested.

James gives him an odd look, reaching down to pick up a rather atrocious looking star, made out of paper and decorated with loads of multi-coloured glitter and some bright green fluff of some sort. Sirius, realising that Imogen has shaken her head at them and turned back to the tinsel, pokes James hard in the side.

"Watch where you wave those elbows of yours," James states, holding up the star to show Sirius. "Look at this, isn't it neat?"

"It's as ugly as it was last year," mutters Sirius, without even glancing at the star. "Honestly, if you hadn't made it, I'd wonder why Not-Mum kept it."

"You're just jealous of my artistic talents."

"Right." Then Sirius pokes him again. He accompanies this one with a pointed look in Imogen's direction.

James raises an eyebrow. "Hm?"

" _James_."

"What?"

Sirius jerks his head toward Imogen.

James still isn't grasping it.

Impatient, Sirius kicks his shin, hissing, "James, this is the perfect opportunity—"

"Oh," James says, recognising what Sirius is conveying. "You think?"

Sirius nods several times in rapid succession.

"What _are_ you boys up to?" demands Imogen, having rounded the tree again in time to catch this last exchange.

James whirls around to look at her. "Er. Well. We sort of —" He turns to look at Sirius for support. Sirius is staring intently at his shoes. He does clear his throat helpfully, though. Staring at him for a moment or two, James turns back to face his mother. "We sort of wanted to tell you something."

"All right," says Imogen, looking between them with her eyebrows raised slightly. Her expression clearly says she's rather wary of anything for which telling her requires such a production. "Go ahead, then."

"I, erm." James clears his throat. "We — that is to say, Sirius and I…"

Sirius's face, still averted, turns pink.

"I gathered already that it involved the both of you," Imogen murmurs, gently wry.

"Involves," James repeats, clearing his throat once more. "Involve. Yeah, that's — we're sort of… involved." He pauses. "Sirius and I." Sirius clears his throat again, an odd sort of punctuation to James's statement.

Imogen takes a moment to consider this announcement. Then her eyes widen. "You mean that you're — that the two of you —"

Now James, too, is staring at his feet. "Yeah", he mumbles.

Sirius picks up a nearby ornament and begins to examine it curiously, obviously in a further attempt to avoid looking at either of the Potters.

" _Involved_?" repeats Imogen, apparently quite shocked. "Properly involved?"

"Er, well," James says, glancing up at her and then down at his shoes again. "I don't really know what 'properly involved' entails, but, um."

"Together," mutters Sirius, and then accidently drops the unicorn he'd been holding.

"Careful with that, it was my grandad's," James says, bending to pick it up. Sirius mumbles something vaguely apologetic.

"What the two of you are trying to tell me," Imogen interjects, ignoring the plight of her Christmas decorations, "is that you're dating. Each other."

James nods, once, and then his brow furrows. "Is it still dating if you've never been on a date?"

"Don't be a prat," Sirius mutters, finally lifting his head in order to peer exasperatedly at James.

"Well, we haven't!"

"I rather think we're past going on dates, James."

Imogen is watching them, her expression gradually turning from shocked to merely surprised, to vaguely amused.

"You're only saying that because you're too mean to buy me dinner," James replies, before seeming to recall that they're not alone and blushing slightly.

"James, I'm the one who pays for the groceries," retorts Sirius, not having remembered Imogen's presence, as the other man has. "I _always_ buy you dinner."

"Yeah, well, that's not the same thing, is it," James mumbles, staring at his feet again.

Sirius lifts an eyebrow. "Well, really, if you mind that much, I'll —"

"I don't know why I was surprised," Imogen remarks loudly, shaking her head.

James's head snaps up to regard her. Sirius's face turns pink again.

"What?"

"I didn't see this coming," Imogen tells her son, turning back to her tinsel. "But I probably should have."

James blinks. Sirius stares.

Imogen glances over to them. Her expression softens into an affectionate smile that is perhaps a little wistful, and she says gently, "Thank you for telling me, boys."

James looks rather like he doesn't know what to say. Sirius isn't any better off, but he manages to stammer, "Then, you don't — don't mind?"

At that, Imogen turns around fully. "Sirius," she says very seriously, "Why _would_ I mind?"

"Er." Sirius frowns, and looks anxious. "No grandkids?"

"I shudder to think of either of my boys as parents," replies Imogen easily. "Perhaps it's a good thing neither of you will be having children."

"Oi, we're responsible," James argues.

"Mmhm." She raises her eyebrows and pins James with a very I-am-your-mother sort of look. "And who is it that keeps showing up late for my brunches and doesn't Floo me?"

"That was his fault."

"Hey!" Sirius cries, and glares at James. "How do you figure?"

James grins at him. "I don't, I'm just trying to blame you to get myself out of the hot water." Sirius looks like he is considering tackling James. "Mum lets you off the hook easier than she does me, anyway."

"You do realise her tree is in danger, right?"

Mrs Potter gives Sirius a stern look. "Don't you dare, young man."

"But he—"

"Don't you dare touch that tree."

"Yes, ma'am," Sirius mumbles meekly.

"Thank you, mummy."

"It did it for my tree."

James puts on a rather fake-looking hurt face, complete with a pout. Sirius grins. Apparently Imogen can't suppress a smile at their antics, and she shakes her head resignedly. "And speaking of that tree…"

"What of it?" James asks, still keeping a rather wary eye on Sirius.

"Well, if you were looking at it, you'd see that it is still only half decorated."

"James is in my way," says Sirius, as if this constitutes a real excuse.

"I'm protecting it from you, you great big oaf."

"Oi!"

James flashes one of his self-proclaimed winning smiles at him in response. Unmoved, Sirius is about to shove him, most likely into Imogen's tree, when he is interrupted by a throat clearing loudly. Imogen, he sees when he glances at her, has her hands on her hips and her eyebrows lifted expectantly.

"Boys."

"Yes, Sirius, stop being such an arse."

"James," interjects his mother, her posture not having changed at all. James glances over at her. "Tree. Now. Foreplay later."

James's eyes go very, very wide. His jaw drops. It is, in all, a rather comical reaction. "Mum!" he manages to squeal. Sirius, on the other hand, is making a choking noise that doesn't sound particularly healthy. His face is bright, bright red.

Imogen continues to regard them blandly, though her eyes are twinkling now. "Something wrong, James?"

"I think I need therapy," James says weakly.

" _I_ think you deserved it," replies Imogen piously. "Flirting in front of your mother that way."

Sirius makes a noise very close to a squeak.

"Mum, are you trying to actually kill Sirius?"

Imogen giggles mischievously. "Are you going to tell me that he's dealt with _you_ for a dozen years, and still can't put up with a little teasing from me?"

James nods in the other man's direction. "I don't think anything I've ever said to him has elicited that reaction…"

" _Foreplay_!" Sirius finally manages to gasp, staring at Imogen in what is now identifiable as stupefied admiration.

Imogen meets his eyes a moment, then looks back to her son. "I thought you said I killed him."

"A near-death experience, then."

Sirius is still staring at James's mother. "I cannot _believe_ you said that."

James's eyes are still about twice their normal size.

"Well." Imogen is smirking now. "I _am_ a Potter."

"Not by birth," James argues.

Imogen waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, that hardly matters."

James just shakes his head, like he can't quite believe this conversation is actually taking place.

"…Tree," Sirius croaks suddenly, and he looks toward the large pine.

"Tree?"

"Needs trimming."

James blinks.

Sirius is making himself rather busy, yanking baubles out of boxes and hanging them haphazardly on whatever branches he reaches first.

"… is there a method to what you're doing, Si?"

"Er, madness?"

Smiling slightly, Imogen once again returns to her tinsel-winding.


	15. 26 December 1983–1 January 1984

**Monday, 26 December 1983**

* * *  
  
---  
  
* * *

__**Residence of Lily Evans and Remus Lupin  
29 December 1983  
5.37 pm**

"… really, Lils, you have the best biscuits," announces Sirius, picking up the serving plate and leaning back in the armchair, settling deeper, his eyes on the biscuits.

"Thank you," Lily replies, grabbing one herself and dunking it in her teacup. "I've bought them myself."

Sirius shifts the plate further into his lap, to make it harder for her to steal more. "Yes, well. Just don't tell Not-Mum I think so, yeah?"

"Why, would she disown you?"

For some reason, this makes Sirius smile slightly. "She couldn't," he says, looking rather pleased with himself. "But I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings, you know."

Lily grins back at him. "And they say you're a cold-hearted bastard."

"Who says that?" demands Sirius, but he is examining the chocolate chunks in a biscuit.

"Remus?"

"Remus's opinion of me doesn't count," Sirius declares grandly, apparently having decided that the biscuit is worth eating, for he pops it into his mouth whole. Around it, he mumbles, "I thought you'd know that by now."

"Whatever you say," Lily replies, still grinning. "Now, what's your big plan for New Year's?"

"Well." Sirius pauses to chew and swallow his biscuit. "I'll be in Milwaukee, so I'm not really sure what I'll get up to."

"You'll be _where_?"

"In Milwaukee," Sirius repeats. He is studying another biscuit, and has missed the expression on her face. "Didn't I tell you that already?"

"No."

"Oops." Sirius rejects the biscuit, temporarily at least, and leans forward to pick up his teacup from Lily's coffee table. "James and I are leaving… Wednesday, I think."

" _Tomorrow_?" Lily exclaims. "Wednesday tomorrow?!"

Sirius considers this for a moment, and the nods. "Yes, actually. Huh. Funny, that."

"Why in the blazes are you going to _Milwaukee_?"

"Because I have tickets?" he suggests, grinning at her over the rim of his cup.

"Sirius, that is not a proper answer," Lily tells him, sternly.

"There's a motorcycle museum there," Sirius relents, with an affectionate smile off into the middle of nowhere.

"… a what?"

"Well. A motorcycle _something_. I think it is a museum, anyway." Sirius shrugs.

Lily looks rather lost. "And you're going there. For New Year's."

"Well, not _for_ New Year's. It just so happens I'll be there over New Year's," Sirius explains calmly. He eats another biscuit. "That's when James bought the tickets."

" _James_ bought you the tickets?!"

A tiny frown line appears between Sirius's eyebrows, and he looks at Lily rather blankly. "Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?"

Blinking, Lily says, "I was just under the impression that he was trying… not to further your… insanity."

"He's not." Sirius's face smoothes out, his expression relaxing. "But it was my birthday present, so it doesn't count." He does not seem to mind that she has just referred to his beloved Mathilda Ermyntrude, and related interests, as an 'insanity.'

"Your birthday present was a ticket to Milwaukee?"

"What, you think it was a ploy to get rid of me for the holiday?" queries Sirius, with a quick, barking laugh. His eyes are shining slyly.

Lily raises an eyebrow. "I assumed he was coming with you."

"Of course he is. I'd hardly go to the States and leave him here to get up to Merlin knows what on his own."

Shaking her head, Lily says, "You must have been _really_ good this year."

A very smug smirk spreads its way across Sirius's face. "Oh, trust me, I _am_ ," he murmurs, sounding enormously pleased with himself.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably, yes," replies Sirius cryptically, and then laughs as if he's said something funny.

Lily gives him a look. 

Somehow he manages to smile innocently at her. "Can I have some more tea?"

"Okay," Lily says, still regarding him somewhat suspiciously as she gets up and walks into the kitchen.

Sirius's smile turns into another smirk as she leaves. "Thank you, Lily," he murmurs to himself.

Lily returns a few moments later, carrying the teapot. "Should I just leave this in here?"

"Yes, please." Sirius holds out his cup. "I'm feeling very thirsty."

"You do know that tea is actually dehydrating, don't you?" Lily asks, refilling his cup and then setting the teapot down on the coffee table.

Sirius looks completely unfazed. "Which would explain why I'm thirsty, wouldn't it?"

"Your logic is lacking, darling."

"It usually is, darling," he replies, taking a sip.

"Don't call me darling, darling."

"Or what, you'll put me on the couch for a week?" Sirius winks at her. "I'm not Remus, _darling_."

"And what makes you think I don't let Remus call me darling?" Lily retorts.

"Do you?"

"No."

"My point." Sirius takes another sip.

"Yes, well." Lily pauses. "So, when will you be back from Milwaukee, then?"

"Tuesday."

"Unless you fall in love with something huge and shiny and move over there permanently?"

"Unless that, yes," Sirius agrees. "But I don't think that's likely, because James wouldn't be allowed to. So, Tuesday."

Lily's eyebrow goes up again. "And _you'd_ be allowed to?"

"Well, it's not like I wouldn't be able to get a job somewhere over there, is it? Not like James."

"Sure you would," Lily states.

Sirius pouts. "You say that like you don't believe yourself."

"I'm serious!"

"No, you're not," he replies. "I—"

" _Don't._ "

Sirius laughs. "I suppose I can resist."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, darling." Lily kicks him in the shin. "Ow!" he cries indignantly. Then he pouts at her. "Careful. If you're mean to me, I might not ever come back!"

"You'll come back for the bikkies."

"I'm sure they have bikkies in Milwaukee."

Lily seems to ponder this. "Hmm. You know, I've heard those American meals are enormous…"

Sirius sits straighter and almost visibly brightens; one imagines his ears perking up and his tail wagging in interest. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Three months there and that bike of yours wouldn't be able to hold you!"

"Pfft." Sirius waves a dismissive hand. "As if James would let me get fat."

"I thought you said James had to come back on Tuesday," Lily smirks at him.

"Technicalities."

"From which technicalities will James be returning on Tuesday?" asks a new voice, and Remus enters the room from the kitchen, unwinding a muffler from his neck. He must have come in through the back door, though neither of the other two had heard it.

Sirius greets him with a rather insolent grin. "Being dragged about Milwaukee."

Lily just shakes her head.

Remus stares at him. "I'm assuming that you're to be the one doing the dragging, yes?"

Sirius nods. "It was his idea, though. Birthday present, and all that."

"Sirius has been very good this year," Lily fills in. "You want tea, babe? You look cold."

"Yes, please, it's _freezing_ out there," Remus replies almost absently, still staring at Sirius. "Why would he do _that_?"

"Why would who do what?" questions Sirius, though the grin he's trying to hide suggests he knows what Remus means. Lily walks over to give Remus a quick kiss before walking into the kitchen, presumably to fetch him a teacup.

"Why would James let you drag him about Milwaukee for your birthday?" clarifies Remus curiously. He drops onto the sofa, not far from Sirius's chair.

"I don't know, why don't you ask him," is the reply, spoken around a biscuit.

Lily returns during this little speech, bearing a cup, which she fills from the pot on the table. "He's not here, is he?" she asks, giving Remus the cup full of steaming hot tea and sitting down next to him on the sofa.

"No," agrees Sirius, managing to smirk and look slightly pitiful and mournful at the same time, "He is not."

"Too busy for us, eh?" says Lily as she snuggles up next to her boyfriend.

"Actually, I think he's plotting his packing. Terribly organised, is James."

Remus, who has been staring at Sirius even while murmuring his thanks to Lily and taking several large drinks of tea, abruptly demands, "Do you even know where Milwaukee _is_ , Sirius?"

Sirius returns the favour by staring at him. Somehow he manages to make the bland expression look rather offended.

"I don't," Lily offers. "Well, aside from being in America."

Sirius says nothing, which is probably highly indicative of… something. Annoyance, maybe; probably not ignorance.

"It's up North-ish. In Wisconsin," supplies Remus, finally looking away from Sirius in order to glance at his girlfriend.

"Sounds cold."

"James says it will be," declares Sirius.

"Don't forget your mittens," Lily states.

"Oh, I'm not packing."

"Why not, you planning on parading around in the buff?"

"No. Just letting James do it."

Lily raises an eyebrow. "What, he enjoys freezing his bits off?"

"Lily," protests Remus, frowning.

"No, he doesn't," says Sirius, ignoring Remus's interjection. "I'm letting him _pack_ , Lils."

"Ah," Lily says. "Pity. Could have been interesting."

" _Lily_ ," repeats Remus, more strenuously.

"What?"

"Are you _ever_ going to stop talking about how hot my mates are?"

Sirius chokes, just a bit, on his tea.

Lily turns to look at Remus. "Pardon?"

Remus is frowning grumpily. Apparently he was colder than he'd let on earlier. "Why would it have been interesting if James liked freezing his bits off?"

"Remus, maybe if you'd stop being an insecure arse for two seconds you'd be able to recognise a joke when you heard one." Lily does not sound amused.

Rather more loudly than necessary, Sirius sets the plate of biscuits that he'd still been hoarding back on the table. He is smiling slightly for some reason. "Aw, don't be shirty, the both of you. I'm leaving tomorrow, remember? You can fight while I'm gone."

With a small glare at her boyfriend, Lily turns back to their guest. "Sorry."

"Forgiven," replies Sirius, setting his cup down next to the biscuits. He turns to Remus. "Do you want souvenirs from _Wisconsin_?"

Remus mutters something about not wanting Sirius to hurt his brain looking for them. Lily ignores him. "I want something shiny, please… but not something that goes on a motorcycle."

Sirius nods, and looks like he is making a mental note of this. "Sparkly shiny, or gleamy shiny?"

"There's such a thing as gleamy shiny?" asks Remus blankly, apparently startled out of his grumpiness.

Ignoring him, Lily firmly says "Sparkly".

"Noted." Sirius glances at Remus, tilts his head doggishly to one side. "Well, Remus?"

"Nothing alive, please," Remus replies, a little ungraciously. After a pause, he adds, "And nothing involving rabbits or little baby deers."

Sirius grins. "You sure, mate? I'm sure I could —"

" _No_."

Grinning, Lily pats Remus's knee. Remus looks put upon.

"Well, if you're _positive_ …" says Sirius, obviously restraining a snicker. He stands.

"You leaving?"

"If I don't go soon I'll be late for dinner and James will have my head," says Sirius, not at all apologetically. "Thanks for the biscuits, though, Lils."

"You're welcome," Lily says, standing too. "Enjoy Milwaukee. Take care of yourselves, yeah?"

"Naturally. Or of each other anyway," Sirius answers, with a tiny chuckle. He moves over to peck her cheek. "You as well. Don't let your grumpy boyfriend freeze his bits off."

"I am still here, you know," remarks Remus, not moving to stand the way the other two have.

"What Remus is trying to say is have a nice trip, Sirius."

"Sure it is," says Sirius. Then, to Remus, "That's why I said it, you know."

Remus pretends to scowl at him. "I _know_. Get your paws off my girlfriend and go home already, will you?"

"Possessiveness is not attractive," admonishes Sirius piously, as he turns to collect his coat. Lily shakes her head, grinning.

"Good _bye_ , Sirius."

"Toodles, Remus! Lils."

* * *

**Wednesday, 28 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Mirrors do not count. Spill! /Snoop** Dear Snoop, Somehow, I do not think this line of questioning on your part is appropriate. Surely, that can't be the kind of thing my editor would want me to divulge. Your curiousity will have to go unsatisfied. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I was NOT a midget. Haven't we been through this? /J PS: I packed all your stuff. You can thank me later.** Dear James, Of course you weren't a midget. Really. Sirius PS: Whatever you say, mon capitaine. You'd better not have forgotten anything. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How weird, exactly, would you say it is for one to date one's own (first) cousin? We've hardly seen each other growing up (I'm 20, she's 19) but my mates all say it's too creepy for words. Help! I really like her! /Cousin D** Dear D, All I'm going to say on this subject is that my parents were second cousins, and I've always found that plenty creepy enough. Besides, I think dating your first cousin sounds vaguely... illegal. Sorry. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you got any tips on how to attract more ladies? I'm not a bad looking fellow, I don't think, but I don't seem to be able to find myself a nice girl! You seem rather popular with the fairer sex, so any hints would be very appreciated. /Not Casanova** Dear Casanova (Not), Try not to seem desperate; not even particularly eager. That's always worked for me. Try being extra nice, too, and gallant and chivalrous and charming, and all that. (You do know how to flirt, right?) If all else fails? Start trying to find yourself a bad girl. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could ask all your readers a question, what would it be? /Homer** Dear Homer, Probably something along the lines of "Am I really that interesting?" But then again... no, I really wouldn't want to know their answer to that. I might just ask what they had for breakfast. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 30 December 1983**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I started going out with this bloke over the summer. He's in his last year at Hogwarts and I left last year so right now our relationship is mainly letter-based. Problem: he ended his last letter with those three words! You know which ones. I have no idea what to say back because I don't feel the same way... yet. I think I could, it's just to soon. How do I reply in a way that won't break his heart? /Heartless?** Dear Hearty, Reply like you always do, I suppose, only taking care, without actually coming right out and saying it, to make it very clear that you do care a very great deal for him (you do, don't you?) even if you don't love him... yet. At the end, try thanking him warmly and gushing something about how sweet he is and how glad you are that you have him. Just, you know, a basic suggestion. I'm sorry if I couldn't be more help. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What did you have for breakfast? And what are your plans for New Year's Eve? /Yvonne** Dear Yvonne, Ah, we have a funny one, here! For breakfast I had pancakes. I love pancakes for breakfast. For New Year's Eve, I am in Milwaukee, looking at very, very shiny things and being very, very pleased. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the best holiday you've ever been on? Any special place you'd recommend everyone visits? /Traveller** Dear Traveller, I liked the French Riviera, actually, but I haven't been there since I was, oh, about... six. So I guess I'd suggest everyone visit there. But that's probably only because I don't expect most people have my fascination for motorbikes... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you of any descent other than British? /Half-Italian** Dear Half-Italian, Well, um, no, I'm not, really. My family can trace their ancestry back to the Normans? And they don't much like to import fresh blood. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What was your first day at Hogwarts like? /Richard** Dear Richard, Oh, it was absolutely amazing! One of the best days of my life to date! I got detention. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

__**A hotel room  
** Milwaukee, Wisconsin  
31 December 1983  
11.47 pm 

"Thirteen minutes," Sirius murmurs lazily, leaning back against James's leg. He's sitting on the floor next to the bed, one long leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent, his arms looped around his bent knee. "Still time to go out."

James, although Sirius has no way of telling, raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to go out?" 

"Considering the going out clothes you packed me?" scoffs Sirius, without opening his eyes — one does wonder how he knew what time it is — or moving the least bit. "Absolutely not."

"What's wrong with what I picked?"

"Oh, nothing, except those trousers are three years old and don't really _fit_ me properly anymore…"

The leer in James's voice is rather obvious. "I think they fit you just fine."

Sirius cracks one eye open, and twists his head around to peer over the edge of the bed at the other man. "They're a size too small, James. They look like they've been painted on."

"Just fine."

Sirius's other eye opens. "Yes, because you'd like to spend the rest of the night beating off the ladies with a stick, wouldn't you?" he mutters, almost to himself.

"My, my, someone's awfully full of himself." James's tone is light and teasing.

"Give you a taste of how I feel when you go out in those stupid tight jumpers of yours," Sirius goes on, as if James hadn't spoken.

"My jumpers are not tight!"

"Oh, of course not! And you don't get leered over when we go out in public, either, I suppose?"

"Never."

"You really are blind," says Sirius, opening both eyes to shoot a contemptuous look at James's glasses.

James opens one eye to peer at him. "They're just in awe of being in such close proximity to such a fabulous Quidditch player."

Sirius grunts something under his breath, and closes his eyes again.

"What was that?"

"Conceited bugger, aren't you," says Sirius more loudly. It is debatable whether this is what he said the first time, or not.

"I'd kick you if I could muster up the energy," James says, but his tone remains light and amused.

"I'd dodge if I could muster up the energy," retorts Sirius, in the same manner. He smiles.

James yawns loudly, and after a few moments of silence, asks, "Did you want to go out?"

"Did you?"

"Not really."

"Good." Removing his hands from his knee, Sirius stretches out his leg, sighing softly. He tucks his clasped hands behind his head, against James's leg. "Me, neither."

"Why did you ask then, you pillock?" James asks, laughing softly.

Sirius shrugs. "I wasn't sure you didn't want to."

"I usually tell you what I want to do, don't I?"

"Yeah." Suddenly Sirius is smirking rather wickedly, and he angles his head so that James could see it, if he opened his eyes. "Sometimes it makes your face turn pink, though."

James, somehow sensing Sirius's smirk, sits up slightly on the bed to regard him. "Wanker."

This only makes Sirius's smirk wider, and somehow naughtier. "Mmhm."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Right..." murmurs Sirius, letting his eyes drift languidly from James's slightly flushed face, down the rest of his body.

"Stop leering at me," James argues rather weakly.

"But I _like_ leering at you."

"I feel like a piece of meat."

"Well, you _look_ like a piece of arse," teases Sirius.

James puts on a rather fake-looking pout. "You only keep me around for my body."

"Maybe," Sirius laughs. "But let's be honest, it's a damn _fine_ body, Potter."

"Can I tell Remus you said that?"

"That you're a damn fine piece of arse?" Sirius raises his eyebrows. "What, do you want to give him a coronary?"

"It'd be funny," James grins. "I just meant as a witness. Twelve years together and you've finally learnt to appreciate me!" 

The expression on Sirius's face softens into a rather stupidly adorable smile. "I did that ages ago, you idiot." James's grin changes from teasing to rather sappy. Sirius can't suppress a quiet snicker. "In fact, I'll prove it," he declares, rising to his knees and turning to lean on his elbows over the bed, "if you'll swear not to put any clothes on for at least the next twelve hours."

"I guess that leaves going out out of the question…"

"Yes. But frankly, I'd rather keep you naked."

"Despite these chilly Midwestern nights?" James asks, his grin once more back to teasing.

Sirius waggles his eyebrows. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of a way to keep you warm…"

"From down there on the floor?"

As if this were his cue, Sirius climbs gracefully back into the bed. "Better?"

"Mmm," James says. Then, "Merlin, your feet are freezing." A pause. "And so is your arse."

"I was sitting starkers in the middle of winter, what do you _expect_?"

"Well, you're silly, then," James states matter-of-factly. "What time is it?"

"'Bout thirty seconds to 1984."

"Sounds like it should be a book."

"Shut up, would you?"

James just grins at him. "Happy new year, you arseface."

"Mm." Leaning over, Sirius kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading the next chapter, perhaps you'd like to check out a bonus scene? [1 January 1984](http://archiveofourown.org/works/856228).


	16. 2–8 January 1984

**Monday, 2 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What on EARTH are you doing in Milwaukee? Where IS Milwaukee, come to think of it? /Puzzled** Dear Puzzled, Having fun. Milwaukee is in Wisconsin. The States, you know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You are a very hard man to get a hold of! Sent you an owl; it returned with my letter. Floo'd over to your house; you weren't there and the fireplace spat me back out. (Most rude.) Saturday the 21st: belated birthday party for the decent branch of the family, my house. Be there. Love, Andi** Dear Andi, I'm terribly sorry about all that, our fireplace has something of an attitude. It's James's fault. The 21st, you say? I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Sirius PS: I can bring James, right? Your daughter's not going to tell him he's not related and ask he what he thinks he's doing there, again, is she? 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My mate accidentally blew himself up a bit on New Year's Eve. He'll be fine, he's just in St Mungo's for a bit. What should I bring to cheer him up? /Omar** Dear Omar, Just don't bring him popcorn; he might feel you're trying to say something. Magazines and sweets ought to be good, though, provided he likes sweets. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My mum told me to clean the house so I did. I found this weird thing under my parents' bed. It looks like chocolate sauce, but why would anyone keep that in the bedroom? I asked mum but she just got mad and snapped at me and told me not to pry! Is she going mad? /Worried, 12** Dear Worried, ... Oh, my. No, she's not going mad, don't worry. (And don't clean your parents' bedroom anymore!) You'll understand when you're older. Sirius, who honestly hates that phrase too 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I had to re-take a year at school because of family reasons during the war. I never really minded all that much because all of my friends were still around and everything was the same except for who I was in class with.... but now they're going to be leaving at the end of the year, and I don't know what to do! I'm not really close to anyone in my "new" year. Help! /Soon to be friendless** Dear Friendless, Why don't you try _becoming_ close to anyone it your year? Now, before your other friends leave, or else it will look like you're just bored and using them as substitutes. Alternatively, you could become perpetually lonely, and very good at writing letters. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

__**Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland  
3 January 1984  
1.06 pm**

"Oi, Potter! Visitor in the entry hall!"

James, who was just about to take a big bite out of his rather sad-looking sandwich, groans as he stands up. "Cheers," he says without much enthusiasm to the assistant coach who brought him the message. As he walks through the doors leading from the pitch to the entry hall, he removes his jumper and wipes his face with it.

"Attractive, Potter," remarks Lily, as he appears. Her eyebrows are raised slightly, her lips are quirked into a small smile, and both her arms are holding a takeaway bag.

"Evans?" James asks, placing the jumper around his shoulders and straightening his glasses. "What're you doing here?"

"We've not spent much time together lately," Lily announces, not really answering his question. "And I have food."

"Food? Proper food, food?"

"Oh, definitely. Tandoori chicken and rice." Lily's smile widens. "You're tempted, aren't you?"

James sends her a rather dazzling grin. "If I wasn't so disgusting and sweaty, I'd kiss you," he states. 

"Ew, Potter," is Lily's eloquent response, and she thrusts one of the takeaway bags in his direction. "Take."

"You are an angel," James says, still grinning. 

She laughs. "Haven't I always said so? Now. Where can we eat this?"

"One sec," James says, giving the bag back to her and rushing back out onto the pitch. "Wait here!!"

Rather bemused, Lily does as she's told, standing and shaking her head, muttering to herself about untrainable plebs. A minute or two later James returns, grinning even wider. "Coach gave me an hour off for lunch," he announces with a flair, "and we can dine in one of the VIP boxes, unless you mind stairs."

"A whole hour off, eh?" muses Lily, after a quick shake of her head to indicate that no, she's doesn't mind stairs at all. The expression on her face, of teasing amusement, makes it an easy guess to deduce that she's thinking of Sirius, and his customary two hour lunches.

"He likes me," James nods, walking over to a door and holding it open for her.

"Dare I ask why?"

James give her a bemused look. "Because I score goals for his team, of course. Really, Evans, what do you think of me?"

"I think what Sirius tells me," she declares breezily. "Speaking of whom…"

"Heinous lies," James mutters, holding open yet another door, this one at the top of the stairs, for her.

"Really?" She shoots a sideways glance at him. "Sometimes, you know, he says very nice things about you."

James raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"He says you won't let him get fat, for one," she offers, while in the middle of peering longingly into her takeaway bag.

Stopping halfway down the hallway they've entered, James fumbles in his pocket for the key to the door in front of them. "I think that's mostly his own doing, honestly."

"How do you mean?"

"Hard to make him fat when all we have at home are apples, toast and some dubious looking cheese," James says as he opens the door. "Ta-dah!" 

"I really don't think it's fair to blame him for the emptiness of your pantry, since you were crazy enough to let him drag you across the pond for ages and ages." Lily enters the room, eyes not even straying to the glass windows overlooking the pitch but settling on the table closer to them. "Aah. Excellent."

"We were only gone six days," James argues, sitting down at the table. "Fork over the goods."

"Perhaps he's been busy," argues Lily, while passing one of the bags to James. "He did give that impression the last time I spoke to him."

James's hand stills in the air. "Oh?"

Lily, focused on the all-important contents of her lunch, misses this. She replies casually, "Yes. Or at least, busier than usual, for Sirius. And apparently he was very good last year?"

The tips of James's ears are perhaps a little bit red as he busies himself with the contents of his bag. "Well, you know. Good for him."

"I mean, you did buy him tickets to some motorcycle something in America," Lily goes on, gesturing with a paper napkin. "And after you had Remus and I convinced you didn't mean to encourage his craziness. So he _must_ have, mustn't he?" She pauses for approximately .02 seconds. "Where's my fork?"

"Bloody hell, Evans, you look like you haven't seen food in a year."

"Remus doesn't like Indian food. He thinks it smells funny." Which she apparently considers explanation enough.

" _He_ smells funny."

"Honestly, you and Sirius… Aha!" Her freshly-found fork in hand, Lily begins delicately attacking her food. Thirty seconds and five bites later, she says, "I am expecting an explanation, you know."

"I dunno, does he shower every day?" James asks around a mouthful of rice.

"About you supporting the motorcycle nonsense, I meant," counters Lily, frowning sternly around her seventh bite.

"Oh, that." James stares at his food. "Well, you know."

"No, I don't know," Lily retorts, with a feigned frown. "That is why I need an explanation."

James shrugs. "Silly things mean a lot to him."

"Which does not change the fact that the last time I heard anything on the subject, you disapproved."

Shrugging again, James says, "Just being nice to my best mate."

"Mmhm," mutters Lily, the look in her eye saying clearly that she is suspicious of James and his niceness.

"Look, Evans," James says, taking another bite of chicken, "being bumped up from the reserves meant a huge raise, all right?"

"Money which you spend on Sirius, naturally," Lily replies, a little dubiously.

"Not all of it!"

"Tightwad." Lily takes several large bites of her rice.

"Merlin, make your mind up, woman!" James says, shaking his head with a grin. "So what'd Moony get you for Christmas, then?"

Lily pauses in her food consumption to grimace. She opens her mouth to answer, then seems to think better of it. "None of your business," she says instead.

"Really, now." James's grin widens.

Lily glares at him. "No. Not what you're thinking. Simply none of your business."

"Uh-huh."

"Really, Potter, what a dirty mind you've got," she reproves, pointing her fork at him. "And don't you dare try to tell me it comes from Sirius."

"Oh, Evans, if you only knew." Something about his tone seems to surprise Lily, who stares at him blankly for a moment. James's grin fades somewhat. "Anyway. Have a nice New Year's?"

"Oh, yes, it was lovely," she says, still looking at him oddly. A pause. "Sirius didn't call me just after midnight this year, you know."

"Time difference," James states, taking another (rather large) bite of his food.

Abruptly, Lily's expression becomes genuinely shocked. "Potter, are you suggesting he _forgot about me_?"

James looks rather amused. "Evans, midnight in Milwaukee is six in the morning here. You can't tell me you'd have wanted a call at that hour?"

This, rather salient, point does not seem to matter to Lily. "But he _always_ calls me."

James's foot nudges her leg under the table. "Feeling neglected?"

"Immensely!" Frowning, Lily sets her fork down. "I can't imagine why he'd forget…"

"Well, we _were_ , er, looking at shiny motorcycle things…"

Strangely enough, this does not seem to sooth Lily. "And now you are suggesting that I am less important to him than chrome. Thank you, Potter."

"Aw, Evans, cheer up," James says, reaching over to pat her hand. "Would it make you feel better if I told you he felt awful when we woke up in the morning?"

Lily rolls her eyes at him. "Really, Potter. Thank you." She pauses; reclaims her fork. "Well, at least now I know where I am."

James gives her a somewhat odd look. "What do you mean?"

"On Sirius's List of Importance."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"No, no, _really_." Lily waves her fork through the air, gesturing like there isn't a piece of chicken on the tines. Clearly, she has spent to much time around Sirius. "See, it goes: You; your mum; Mathilda Ermyntrude and sundries; Me; work; Remus; Firewhiskey; food." She stops a moment to consider. "Well, probably reverse food and work."

James is grinning at her. "Reverse my mum and food, more like."

"James Potter! What an absolutely horrid thing to say," Lily protests loudly. "Sirius adores your mother!"

"Have you seen him around bacon?"

Though it looks very much as if she wants to laugh, Lily nevertheless argues, "Have you seen him shop for her Christmas presents?"

"Hmm, you do have a point," James says, laughing now. "Okay, maybe mum and bacon are tied."

"Good." Lily gives a satisfied nod. Then, "What about chocolate cake?"

"… I think on a good day, _I_ could lose to chocolate cake."

"Especially if it is _your_ chocolate cake," agrees Lily, with a solemn nod. James looks rather like he wants to say something, but is refraining. "That man would probably _marry_ a chocolate cake, if he could," Lily continues.

"Now that'd be a sight to behold."

"Who'd wear the dress, do you think?" asks Lily, grinning widely. "Sirius, maybe?"

"Hmm." James appears to think hard about this. "He probably _would_ leave less of a mess on it…"

Lily raises her eyebrows. " _Probably_?"

"This is Sirius Black we're talking about."

"Yes, Sirius Black," says Lily meaningfully, "who occasionally thinks his clothes are more important than his skin."

"Now, Evans," James grins, "that's not really fair. It all depends on what the item of clothing in question is."

Lily seems to consider this for a moment. "Yes, you're right. That leather jacket of his…"

"I think it ought to be included in your list of priorities."

"Between me and food, do you think?" she asks, while rather obviously stifling a grin.

James laughs around a mouthful of rice. "Sounds about right."

Lily makes a show of shaking her head sadly. "Honestly, that man."

"Mm," James agrees. "Anyway, enough about him. How're you?"

"Oh, you know, well enough. No real complaints." Lily shrugs slightly. "Though I will admit that the office hasn't been the same since one of my co-workers and his wife had their baby — I feel like I can't hardly turn around but someone else is talking about nappies."

"Go on, Evans, you know you want little cubs of your own…"

Lily pauses, her fork halfway to her mouth. She narrows her eyes at him. "That's hardly fair, Potter."

James raises an eyebrow at her. "What?"

" _Cubs_ , Potter," she repeats, raising her eyebrows right back at him. "That's not even _pretending_ to be subtle."

"Subtlety was never my strong side, you know."

"Mmhm." Lily allows her fork to resume its journey. She chews meditatively for a moment. "It's _your_ fault, anyway."

"Hm?"

"You really ought to work harder on it," adds Lily, when he doesn't seem affected by her previous declaration.

"Don't need to around Sirius," James shrugs. 

"…You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Glaringly," she replies, laughing slightly.

James tries to look lofty, the impression rather spoiled by his somewhat lopsided grin. "Go on, then, explain it to me."

"All right." Carefully and decidedly, Lily sets her fork down, arranging it just so, then clasps her hands on the table in front of her and regards James with a ridiculously stern expression. "James Potter, you have failed."

"I'm suddenly reminded very forcibly of Professor M…"

As if in retaliation, Lily's lips press together, in her best impression of a thin, disapproving line. "Shh, I'm not done!" James mimes zipping his lips shut. Apparently satisfied with this, Lily goes on, "Moreover, I have seen no recent effort on your part to correct this circumstance." The look on James's face remains puzzled. Though everywhere else she manages to maintain a grave demeanor, Lily's green eyes are beginning to flash amusedly. "And Sirius, as well! A bigger pair of slackers, I've never seen."

"Evans, I have no idea what you're on about."

"Oh, Remus, of course."

"Of course," James nods. "What about him?"

"Other than his apparent belief that, should we ever attempt to have children, I'd pop out furry, snout-nosed mutants, you mean?" Lily pauses. "And perhaps his horrid hat collection. Sirius should stop encouraging that."

"Moony is batty," James says matter-of-factly. "Any spawn of yours would have a lovely, tiny, un-hairy nose."

Lily sputters a moment. " _I_ know that," she manages after a moment. "You should be telling _him_."

"He'd turn purple and start muttering about the time."

Lily mutters something, clearly _not_ about the time, and then picks up her fork and goes back to her food. "So did you lot have fun full moon?" she asks, obviously changing the subject.

"Oh, you know, same old." James looks at her rather pointedly. "Still haven't changed your mind about that backyard thing?"

Lily looks at him like she thinks he's crazy. "I think you're crazy, if you think I'm crazy enough to allow that. It would be crazy."

"Would be fun."

"And where would you suggest I'd be, while the three of you beastly men are having all your fun in my yard?" Lily's tone is exactly the sort a person uses when they've already made the same point several hundred times in the past.

"Inside, getting your beauty sleep?" James replies, in a tone not that different from hers.

"You _know_ that is not the least bit practical."

"Practical?!"

Lily widens her eyes innocently. "Aren't you familiar with my insatiable curiosity, Potter?" She pauses. "I've never seen him as a werewolf, you know."

"Not that much of a difference, you know," James winks at her. "He's still hairy, smelly and moody."

Lily throws a few grains of rice at his face.

"Your aim is all off," James complains, opening his mouth slightly. "Here, go again."

"You're like a five year old, Potter."

"All part of my charm."

"You have _charm_?" retorts Lily skeptically.

"Ouch."

Lily gives him a winning smile. "Though I am sure Sirius would argue that."

"Please," James says with a slight roll of his eyes. "He doesn't care about anyone's charm but his own."

Lily gives him an odd look. "His was what I was talking about," she says.

"… oh."

Lily stares at him a little. James looks vaguely uncomfortable again. The silence that follows allows them to notice the sound of footsteps from the other side of the door, approaching rather quickly.

A moment later, there's a sort of incidental, preemptory knock, and the door opens. A head of black hair precedes a leather and denim clad body into the room, accompanied by a rather overly-cheerful voice saying, "Oi, Jimmy, I hear you've got a _bird_ up here! How'd — oh."

"Talk of the devil," James states, shaking his head slightly.

Sirius has stopped just inside the door. He grins at them. "If it isn't my two favourite people, in one room. Hullo, Lily, m'love. Talking about me, were you?"

"Your incessant charmingness, more like," says Lily, taking her eyes away from James to smile at Sirius. "What are you doing here? I thought you had that meeting."

"Oh, so I'm second choice, am I?" James complains, rather huffily. "Really, I feel so appreciated."

Lily, in the process of pointedly presenting her cheek for Sirius to kiss, raises her eyebrows at James. "Was that directed at me, or this one, Potter?"

"Either. Both. Bah, humbug."

"Is that chicken?" Sirius asks loudly, indicating Lily's half-finished lunch.

"… you're not even here to see me, are you?"

"Came to watch you practice," Sirius answers distractedly, reaching for Lily's fork. James mumbles something. Sirius doesn't seem to notice. Beginning to devour the rest of Lily's food, much to her amusement, he remarks, "You shouldn't hide up here, you know, with girls. Gives people the wrong idea."

"What kind of idea would that be?"

"The kind Remus'll pout about if he'd talked to your teammates like I just did."

Lily, who'd been watching this exchange with a small smile, suddenly covers her mouth to stop a laugh escaping. James just rolls his eyes, glancing out onto the pitch where the rest of the team is by now back in the air.

"Do you do this often, Sirius?" Lily asks curiously, having mastered her amusement.

"D'wha?"

"You two are just going to ignore me, aren't you?" James asks, still looking out toward the pitch.

"Y'gonna finish that rice?" is Sirius's response.

Lily can't help her laugh.

"Be my guest."

Sirius edges around the table to James's side, coming up next to him and leaning past him, very close, to commandeer his rice. This motion finally succeeds in making James look away from the glass windows; he glances briefly at Sirius, then at Lily, then at Sirius again. Sirius is completely oblivious to this. His attention is solely focused on the food he's stealing.

Lily is staring at him. "Didn't they feed you at that meeting?" she asks, caught between wondering and resigned.

"Don't you know by now that he's bottomless?" James asks, shifting over towards the door. 

"He usually restrains himself in front of me," she replies.

"You're lucky, then," says James, glancing over at Sirius again. "If I leave you two alone up here, will you behave yourselves and hand the key in at the reception desk when you're done?"

"I'm a good boy," says Sirius cheerfully, which is apparently an affirmative response.

"Uh-huh," is James's reply. "Keep an eye on him, will you, Evans?"

Grinning, Lily lifts a hand and salutes him smartly. "Sir, yes sir, Potter, sir."

James blows her a kiss. "Thanks for lunch, o angel of Indian food."

"My pleasure!"

Sirius pauses in his eating to flash a — rather wicked — grin at James, fortunately concealed from Lily by the fact his back is turned to her. "See you tonight, mate."

"Don't eat too much," James replies, one corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "I'm making pork chops for dinner."

"Sweet."

"You kids have fun," James says as he opens the door and steps out into the hallway. "Watch me completely own the rest of practice."

"Get on, Potter!"

With a grin, James is gone.

* * *

**Wednesday, 4 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What on EARTH are you doing in Milwaukee? My dad's family is from there and I can't really say it's somewhere I'd choose to spend my New Year's Eve. Is this your first visit to the US? /Kayley** Dear Kayley, Like I said before, I was having fun, looking at shiny things. And yes, it was my first visit to the US. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm sure you'd bring him no matter what I told you, so sure, he can come. (Kidding, Potter. You know I love you. As long as you remember to wipe your feet before entering my house!) 7 pm. No present, because I didn't get one for you! Love, Andi (and Dora)** Dear Andi, True. I shall be there, avec Quidditch star, sans expensive sparkly things. There'd better be cake. Sirius PS: What, no love from your husband? I'm hurt. Truly! 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just laughed so hard tea came out my nose upon reading the question from the young girl who had found chocolate sauce in her parents' bedroom. (That rather hurt.) Good thing she didn't seem to understand it -- a friend of mine once found some rather, shall we say, private photographs in her mum's handbag! Has anything like that ever happened to you? I guess sometimes we forget that parents are people, too. /Melanie** Dear Melanie, No, thank Merlin, I've never had any experience like that. And my parents aren't people, anyway. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I don't suppose you're free for lunch one of those days? /Padraig O'Brian** Dear Padraig, I'm afraid most of my lunch dates are already taken. Sorry, mate. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think I saw you the other day! Were you in London around lunchtime about a week ago, having lunch in a Muggle restaurant with a stunning redhead? I was going to say hello but I was too shy and I didn't know if it was you! /Chicken** Dear Chicken, Yes, I was, actually. So it might have been me you saw, especially since you describe the redhead as stunning! Next time just pop over and say hello; even if it turns out to not be me, you'll end up with an interesting story to tell later! Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 6 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know how to drive a car? /M.K.L.** Dear Mkl, Why would I bother with something like that, when I've got Mathilda Ermyntrude? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been dating this girl for about six months and everything is great, I love her and she loves me and I'm thinking about asking her to marry me. Only problem is that my best friend since we were children can't stand her, and vice versa. They're actually refusing to be in the same room together! I really care about both of them and hate this situation. What should I do? /Torn** Dear Torn, Ouch, mate, that sounds totally unpleasant. (Minus the part about being in love with someone, of course.) It sounds to me like your only options are counselling, or picking which one you're more interested in spending the rest of your life with. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever dressed up as a girl for gags? I reckon you'd make a very pretty one! /Judith** Dear Judith, Why, thank you! But no, I haven't, and don't much think I'd like to. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you had children, what would you name them? /Alice** Dear Alice, I? Have children? I'm sure my friends are thinking how terrifying that notion is... If I had a daughter, I think I'd like to name her Lily Andromeda. And if I had a son, he'd be James Albus. After that, if I had more, I'd start with Imogen and Minerva and Godric and Persephone and Achilles and Odysseus and then just... wing it from there. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you own a Muggle television? If so, what kind of programmes do you enjoy watching? /Telly maniac** Dear Maniac, Yes, I do, actually. I like watching footie, and late-night infomercials. Sirius  
---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading the next chapter, perhaps you'd like to check out a bonus scene? [3 January 1984](http://archiveofourown.org/works/856241).


	17. 9–15 January 1984

**Monday, 9 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who was the first person you ever kissed? And the last? Did you kiss someone at the stroke of the new year? /Smoochie** Dear Smoochie-snooper, The first person I ever kissed was named Sofie, she was a year behind me at Hogwarts, I didn't know her that well and don't remember what her last name was. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My children refuse to eat any sort of vegetables or fruit! You wouldn't happen to know how to trick them into liking it, do you? /Mum at wit's end** Dear Witless, Tricking them into liking fruits and veggies I don't think I can help with, but if you wanted to _threaten_ them into properly, well, I might have a few suggestions. Like telling them they can't ever have any more sweets if they don't eat their greens. Or that all their hair and teeth will fall out and they'll look like hags and zombies. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What did you want to be when you grew up, as a kid? /Lance** Dear Lance, Taller. And stronger. And a Muggle librarian. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How come you only ever complain about your mother, and never about your father? /Curious** Dear Curious, Because my father is dead, and therefore isn't here to read this and be infuriated. Besides which, he was never quite as bad. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you enjoy art? /Leonardo** Dear Da Vinci, Do you mean art, like paintings and sculptures and music? Yeah, sometimes. Or do you mean art, like the way some people play Quidditch? 'Cause that's sometimes, too. Mainly, though, I like paintings of fruit bowls or large women in pink dresses, or statues of animals. Or naked men. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Lily Evans and Remus Lupin  
10 January 1984  
2.49 pm**_

 

"Hello?" Lily calls, her voice somewhat strained, as she closes her front door behind her. "Remus?"

The house remains silent, except a faint, repetitive sound coming from the direction of the kitchen; it sounds like it might be quiet laughter. Frowning, Lily pushes the kitchen door open. "Babe?"

Remus is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, immersed in yesterday's Evening Prophet, which is open to the entertainment section — the Dear Sirius column, particularly. "A librarian?" he snickers to himself, a peculiarly proud note to his voice. He laughs again. "A _Muggle_ librarian? You never told _me_ that. My, my, Sirius… "

Lily, standing in the doorway, frowns. Her face looks slightly paler than normal; there is a faint sheen of sweat at her hairline, and she's got one arm crossed over her stomach. "… Remus?"

Startled, Remus jumps a little, spilling tea on the corner of the paper. "Lily!" he exclaims, and turns to the doorway with a guilty, furtive look on his face, which turns to a look of bemused concern when he sees her. "You're home ear— What's wrong?"

"My uterus is trying to claw its way out of my body," Lily says, deadpan. "What are you _doing_?"

"I, er, nothing," Remus says evasively. He tries to fold up the paper quickly, to hide the evidence of which section he was reading, but in his hurry he muddles it and eventually has to give up or rip it to shreds. "Would tea help with your uterus?"

"Not unless it's laced with painkillers." Lily's staring at the newspaper. "What were you reading, baby?"

"I could put Firewhiskey in it," Remus offers, looking torn between commiseration, discomfort, and evasiveness. He shoves the jumbled up newspaper into his chair as he stands up. "Sirius always swears that works better than painkillers."

"Since when is Sirius an expert on cramps?"

Remus flushes slightly. "I just meant — well, he's an expert on the creative uses of alcohol, isn't he?" he mumbles, moving to fix Lily some tea, even though she more or less said she didn't want any.

Lily raises an eyebrow at him. " _What_ were you so occupied with when I walked in?"

"Just a bit of light reading. Darjeeling or Earl Gray?"

"…… you weren't reading old lady porn, were you?"

Remus makes an offended noise. "Lily!"

"You didn't even hear me come in!" Lily exclaims, walking over to where he was sitting and grabbing the newspaper.

"I was just, er, doing the crossword!" Remus exclaims loudly, looking like he wants to snatch the newspaper away from her but is afraid to in case it might cause her concentration to slip and let her uterus win.

Lily unfolds it, with some difficulty due to the way it's all crinkled up. Her eyes widen. "Really, now."

"… Lily, I swear to God and Merlin that I was not reading the article about the rugby club for hard-core furries," says Remus loudly, apparently having thought of something worse than her realising what he was actually doing.

Lily raises her eyebrows. "Pity, could have been interesting." She turns the newspaper over. "… oh, babe."

Remus gets very, very busy fixing her tea — which since he's doing it the Muggle way currently involves fiddling with the cup and watching water boil — and stiffly pretends that the back of his neck is not turning faintly pink.

"This is what you were so invested in?" The laughter in her voice is obvious even with his back to her.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Is today one of your days for sugar?"

"Lots of it, please, but don't think that can get you out of this." Lily waves the newspaper around a bit, a huge grin on her face. "Didn't you read this yesterday?"

"I, er, glanced at it," Remus admits stiffly, while adding a little tea to Lily's sugar. "Scalding, yes?"

"And now you're, what, going over it with a highlighter pen?"

Remus whirls around, an expression of unguarded alarm on his face. "What? I didn't highlight anything thi—" he blurts, and then forgetting that he's holding Lily's boil-a-lobster tea, his hands move so swiftly to snatch at the paper that he spills and burns himself.

"Watch it, baby," Lily scolds, waving her wand at his tea-injured areas. "This time?"

Remus, preoccupied with pretending that his no-longer-burnt hands still hurt so that he doesn't have to meet her eyes, mumbles something inaudible, and then, "Here, take this before I do permanent damage."

"Thank you, dearest," Lily says, putting it on the table without taking a single sip. "Now."

"Have you taken anything?" Remus asks abruptly. Lily raises an eyebrow at him. "For your uterus," he explains awkwardly. "To stop it clawing its way out."

"You let me worry about my uterus, Remus," Lily says, shaking her head, "and tell me why you were reading Sirius's column in secret."

Remus begins idly picking at the cuff of his jumper. "It was hardly in secret," he mutters. "I mean, I was right here in the kitchen. Not… hiding in a closet somewhere."

"Well, closets are dark. Makes it hard to read."

"… Honestly, Lily, are we Muggles?" Remus asks, lifting his head to give her a very dry look.

"Honestly, Remus, are we avoiding the question?" Lily retorts.

Remus shrugs, which means very definitely that he is. Hopping up to sit on the counter, Lily gives him A Look. "Just why do you feel you need to hide the fact that you read Sirius's column from me?"

"I don't!" protests Remus, rather indignantly. "I read it in front of you every evening when it comes out."

"You glance it at, and I quote, to make sure he's not being slanderous about you!"

Remus flushes. "Well, that is important. You know how he talks about me."

Lily rolls her eyes at her. "Why can't you just admit that you enjoy his column?"

"Lily," grumbles Remus, and then he frowns. "That would be like Sirius admitting that I'm an excellent influence on young people."

"… you've lost me, baby."

"Admitting I like his column is the same as admitting that he's good at what he does," explains Remus reluctantly, in a near mumble. He reaches past her to pick up his long-abandoned cup of tea.

"He is," Lily argues.

At this Remus looks impatient. And maybe a little amused. "But I can't _say_ that, it's not how we operate. Really, Lily, have you learned nothing about us over the years?" he demands.

" _Boys_ ," Lily mutters, shaking her head. "And why, pray tell, does that mean you can't tell _me_?"

"As if I didn't know the two of you talk about me whenever you have lunch," replies Remus, with a mildly exasperated eyeroll. At least he has stopped trying to pretend he doesn't read Sirius's column.

"Only because you're so very interesting, dearest," Lily winks. "I can keep a secret. Honest."

"… just like you kept the secret that it took me a month to realise you'd bought new boots?"

"That wasn't a secret!"

"Well, would you have considered _this_ any more important?"

Lily crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, your reaction might have tipped me off." Her voice is just a little annoyed.

Remus abruptly seems to remember that the person he is conversing with is not the girlfriend he loves and adores, but something else in her skin just waiting for the perfect opportunity to claw its way out — much like she said her uterus was attempting to do — and unleash its nightmarish, harpy-like self on him. He edges slightly backward. "Yes, Lily, you're right, of course, I should have told you," he says quickly.

"Don't be condescending."

"I wasn't!" he hurriedly insists, backinf up a little more. "Really."

Lily glares at him. "Hand me my tea, will you?"

Remus tentatively reaches around and picks up her tea, and gingerly hands it to her.

"Thank you," Lily says in a voice that is not entirely friendly. "I cannot believe you don't trust me."

Remus blinks rapidly, and visibly attempts to decipher where she got this idea. "Don't be silly, Lily," he says cautiously. "Of course I trust you."

"You don't think you can tell me things without me blabbing about them to Sirius."

"… No, Lily, it isn't like that. It's more that I don't trust Sirius not to pry certain things out of you." He gives her a small smile. "He's good at that, you know."

Lily is not mollified.

Remus seems to think he has to try again, because he says, "I'm sure you haven't forgotten what happened after I finally admitted that I cried when Bambi's mother died."

One corner of Lily's mouth twitches slightly.

" _Or_ what happened when I misguidedly told you I thought rabbits were _cute_."

"You have to admit that big bad wolf joke was pretty hilarious."

"If would have been, if all of the United Kingdom hadn't been laughing at it."

"Don't be absurd," Lily protests. "It was just Sirius and Potter and Mary."

"Until Sirius mentioned it in his column last year!"

Lily bites her lip to keep from laughing. Setting his tea back down again, Remus folds his arms across his chest.

"Do you see," he asks, attempting a flat tone while obviously struggling not to smile, "why letting Sirius in on the fact I'm proud of him, might not be a good idea?"

"Maybe you do have a point," Lily chuckles. "C'mere, babe." Remus eyes her dubiously. "I won't hurt you."

Remus does not appear particularly convinced — Lily is currently being possessed by a bi-polar she-wolf, after all — but edges toward her and puts his arms around her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, and her legs around his lower back, Lily leans her forehead against her boyfriend's. "I promise I won't tell Sirius you're proud of him."

"Well. Good," mumbles Remus. A minute later, he adds gruffly, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lily replies, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. "And I forgive you for being stupid and not telling me about this."

"Gracious of you."

"I know."

"You're rather full of yourself today," he remarks, tempted by her closeness to risk leaning in and kissing her softly.

"Don't push it, baby."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chuckling, Lily lets him go, shoving at his shoulders. "Move. I'm gonna go take a bath."

"Yes, ma'am," Remus repeats, backing away with alacrity. "I recommend you use lots of bubbles."

"I will," Lily replies, hopping off the counter. "Want to do me a favour and run down to the shop and get me something gooey and unhealthy?"

Feeling it unwise to decline, Remus says, "Of course. Chocolaty?"

"And this is why I love you," Lily replies, halfway out of the kitchen already.

Clearly relieved that his girlfriend was again inhabiting her own body, at least temporarily, Remus grins at her back, and doesn't say anything.

* * *

**Wednesday, 11 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Will your face REALLY stick like that if you pull ugly faces? /George, aged 6 3/4** Dear young George, Yes, it will. Especially if you pull them around your mates when they're irritable. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Glad to see I made such an impression! Ah, claim to fame. How the devil are you? /Sofie Rivaldi (the one with the lips)** Dear Sofie, Sofie! Good Lord! (In my defense, it's hard to remember a name with other such lovely, er, attributes of a more interesting nature to pay attention to.) I'm absolutely fabulous, and yourself! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You're having dinner at our house on Thursday. This is not an invitation. /L. Evans the scorned** Dearest Lils, ... I thought I already weaseled my way off the hook for that one...? All right, though. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess. James'll just have to eat by himself... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are coconuts nuts and if not why are they called that? /Nutty** Dear Nutty, I have no idea. Why would I? All I know about coconuts is that they fall on people's heads a lot when they're stranded on desert islands. And then the people go nuts. Maybe that's where the name came from? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, HELP! I have recently been told I need to wear spectacles. MY LIFE IS OVER! Only losers and book lovers wear glasses! What should I do? I've told mum I will chuck them out the window but she told me she'd use a permanent sticking charm on my nose! HELP! THIS IS A MATTER OF LIFE OR DEATH! Please tell my mum she's ruining everything! /Lucy, 13** Dear Lucy, I'll do no such thing! And I'm a little insulted, by the way, since my best mate wears glasses, and that would make me friends with a loser. I've never seen the problem with spectacles, myself. Also, your life is obviously not over — if people can go on to become nationally acclaimed Quidditch stars while requiring glasses in order to not be blind as a bat and run into door jambs and their roommates all the time, then I'm sure you'll be able to survive. Buck up there. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 13 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you had any bad luck so far today? /S.T.** Dear S.T, I stubbed my toe twice on the same chair. Does that count? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am absolutely spiffing! Getting married in May. Working for the Ministry. All well! /Sofie PS: Want to come to the wedding? I'm sure we could squeeze you in!** Dear Sofie, Exciting! Not that I ever found Ministry work personally appealing, but we all know I can't be trusted to be reasonable. I'm glad to hear things are going so spiffingly for you! I'd love an invite to the wedding — would I get to kiss the bride? (Kidding!) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Did you do a lot of sneaking down to the kitchens while at school, then? Fabulous. /Another hungry soul** Dear Hungry, In the interest of not provoking Minnie to more talk of detention in arrears, I think I should probably not truthfully answer that question, as it would require me to say that I _did_. A lot. And often. Saying which would definitely not be smart. Isn't it a marvellous place, though?! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What are your views on mixed Wizarding/Muggle relationships? /Stephen** Dear Stephen, What do you mean, my views? I like Muggles and I like watching them try to get things done without magic, and I really like their automobiles (apart from that whole dependence on petrol thing). I don't think I'd feel comfortable telling any Muggles that I was a Wizard, though, if that's what you meant. What kind of a question is that, anyway? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Could you please send me a signed picture of yourself? Preferrably one where your top is off! /Paulette** Dear Paulette, I'm afraid that's against Prophet policy. Agreeing to such a thing in a public forum, I mean. Besides which, I'm not sure I feel comfortable giving out signed topless photos of myself. I mean, really. Vanity, woman; it's not my middle name. Sirius   
---


	18. 16–22 January 1984

**Monday, 16 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think what Stephen meant was, what do you think of marriages and/or romantic relationships between Muggles and wizards? /Katy** Dear Katy, Oh. Of course. How silly of me. As for that, I don't see anything wrong with it. I'm amiably calm about the issue. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My girlfriend wants me to wax my chest. It's not like I'm a gorilla but there is some hair there and I'm worried it's going to hurt! Have you ever have this done? Any tips or useful hints? /Fuzzy** Dear Fuzzy, Being rather mostly hairless, I've never had to worry about waxing my chest. I would think, however, that the pain quotient would probably be about equal to that of waxing your legs, which doesn't hurt _that_ much... (Don't ask. Really.) I wouldn't recommend it, though. But if your girlfriend is determined, well, some Firewhiskey might help make the experience bearable. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem: I can't dance! Every time I go out with my mates I panic when I see them looking so natural on the dancefloor. I'm too self-conscious to get up there! What should I do? /Wallflower** Dear Wally, Not to sound like a broken record, what with the advice I just gave Fuzzy, but some Firewhiskey would probably help you, as well. Not that it'll make you dance better... but I imagine it would make you more comfortable. Alternately I suggest you pretend that dancing is beneath you and for the less civilised and polished members of society. You'll seem like a prick, but at least no-one will know you're too uncomfortable to dance! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would you pick and why? /Rick** Dear Rick, Aside from things that would require someone else to help me change, and things involving certain ex-friends that to mention would make me sound really callous... well, if I could do it over again, I wouldn't've missed Gryffindor's last Quidditch match of my seventh year. I've always regretted not seeing my best friend make all 17 of the match's goals... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Will you be my Valentine? I realise this is ages in advance but you seem pretty popular!! Love, Sadie, age 13** Dear Sadie, I'm terribly sorry, my dear, but I think I've probably already got a Valentine. Besides, I think I'm a bit too old for you — surely you know a nice boy your own age who'd like to be your Valentine? Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 18 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. I THINK I have feelings for one of my best friends... but I'm not sure just what they are! How do you know when you're in love? /Confused** Dear Confused, That does sound like a bit of a problem... Well, do you hate it when they spend any time at all with anyone else? Especially your other friends? And do you passionately loathe all of their boyfriends/girlfriends, even the half-way decent ones who might possibly have a sense of humour and who at least don't mind you hanging around with them? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who is your Valentine, then? Inquiring minds want to know! /R.S.** Dear R.S., You know, I think I'm getting a bit sick of inquiring minds. They want to know way too much. What makes them think they have the right? I'm going to ask Not-Mum to be my Valentine. (I only told you because I felt like being nice.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Where do babies come from? /Kenneth, age 5½** Dear Kenneth, Well, when mummies and daddies really love each other, they go to a special stores and buy really interesting clothing, usually shiny red stuff with lots of lace, and then nine months later they go to the hospital and get a baby! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm about to be a dad for the first time in early March and I am TERRIFIED! I can't tell my wife this as she's been transformed into some sort of an hormonal monster. I just realised I know NOTHING about babies and I will make the most atrocious father known to wizardkind! What do I do? /Panicked dad-to-be** Dear Panicked, Well, I don't really have much advice for you. It should comfort you to know, however, that you can't possibly be the worst father known to wizardkind — the men in my family have been competing for that title for generations, and I doubt a lesser mortal could be nearly as awful as any of them. As long as you love your kid, I don't think you could go too far wrong... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My mum (and grandmum) is harassing me to cut my hair. She says it looks sloppy and ridiculous for a man my age (I'm 26). However, my girlfriend loves my long locks and says she'll hex me if I cut it off! I don't really care either way, but it's getting really annoying to be stuck in the middle like this! What do I do? /Caught in the crossfire** Dear Caught, I personally think long hair is quite interesting. You might try telling your mum (and grandmum) that it's the latest thing to have long hair... and they wouldn't want you to be unpopular, right? If that doesn't work, well, remind them that it's your hair and, well, you have to stay on your girl's good side, right? Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 20 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What does it mean if you find your (very male) mate painting his toenails? /Slightly concerned** Dear Slightly, Clearly, _one_ of you lost a bet. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Yes, yes and yes! What does that mean? /Confused, still** Dear Confused, Congratulations! You're in love with your mate, you are. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Aha, so you have a thing for (significantly) older women? How scandalous! Where does this fetish come from, one might wonder? /R.S.** R.S. I don't— I never said— Merlin, don't you bloody— I knew I shouldn't— It's not a fetish! I do not have a thing for older women! In fact, I once said in this very column that I prefer to be the oldest party in a relationship. I'd only be asking Not-Mum because I admire her a lot and she doesn't have anyone else to ask her, except maybe her son, and he's generally a prat so he wouldn't. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Right, I tried telling them you said long hair is cool. Their response was to point out your headshot to me and stress that YOUR hair isn't long! Please help me out -- that is an old picture, right? Before you grew out your hair? Right? /Caught in the crossfire** Dear Caught, Actually, while it is an old picture, I'm afraid I haven't actually grown my hair out since then. But they really shouldn't be using my headshot against you, it's truly not fair. I look a bit scary with long hair, I think, so I can't wear my hair that way — whereas you, if you _can_ get away with it, _should_. Maybe you could try telling them that if they want you to cut your hair, they should cut theirs? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you know if a girl is into you? /Dating novice** Dear Naïve one, It has been my experience that it's obvious a girl is into you when she grabs your bum every time you pass her. Or she sends you letters at work asking you to go out with her. Things like that. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Tonks family residence  
21 January 1984  
7.18 pm** _

 

Following a small pop, Sirius appears on the path leading to the front step of his cousin's house, disturbing the cold night air. He grins excitedly toward the house, all the windows well-lit and blazing cheerfully at him across the snow-covered yard. A second later, his best friend, complete with ridiculous wooly hat, appears next to him. 

"Took you long enough," says Sirius, affectionately, as he starts up the walk.

"You cheated," James replies, kicking some snow at the back of his legs. "Nice decorations."

"Yeah." Sirius points to one of the windows. "I like the paper snowflakes, don't you? Very charming."

"Think Ted made them?"

"Oh, no, had to be Andi." Snickering, Sirius glances back as he reaches the door and raises his hand to knock. "And— James, for the love of Padfoot, fix your collar, would you?"

James rolls his eyes. "Yes, mother," he mumbles, nevertheless straightening the offensive piece of clothing.

"Honestly, you'll have my cousin wondering what kind of strange men I'm dragging into her home—" Sirius breaks off his mock stern lecture as the door opens.

Instead of the "hello" or "welcome" one might expect, the person letting them in instead greets them by turning around and shouting, "MUM!! Sirius is here!"

"Dora!" Sirius says in greeting, at the same time someone else in the house exclaims the same thing, in a rather more disapproving tone.

Ted, appearing at the other end of the front hall, continues, "Let them in, for Merlin's sake; it's cold out there."

Grinning, the ten-year old steps aside.

"Thanks, kid," says Sirius, moving past her into the hall, ruffling her hair with one hand as he goes. "Merlin, you're gigantic. — Hullo, Ted."

Ted gives a smiling nod, and would probably say something in reply, except he is interrupted by his wife pushing around him and advancing on Sirius, arms outstretched. "Sirius! You are very late, young man."

"I am excruciatingly sorry, old woman," replies Sirius in the same tone, accepting Andromeda's hug, and placing a loud, smacking kiss on each of her cheeks. "I think James has set back all of our clocks."

"I have done no such thing," James huffs, removing his hat before shaking Ted's hand. "What would the point of _that_ be?"

Ted gives the younger man a look as if to ask what the point of disagreeing with anything Andromeda and Sirius say to each other is, and asks, "Let me take your coat, James. Can I get you a drink?"

"Why would he do that?" demands Andromeda, leaning around Sirius to peer narrowly at James. "You blame him whenever you're late anyway, he wouldn't have a reason to make you even later."

"He likes to laugh at me," Sirius intones solemnly, with a completely straight — if slightly mournful — face.

James just shakes his head. "Anything with a warming effect would be great, thanks, Ted."

"Sirius," Nymphadora — clearly unhappy with the lack of attention — says in a half-whine, tugging at his sleeve. "Look what I can do!"

"Butterbeer, then?" says Ted to James, turning and leading the way into the living room. Away, rather fortunately, from the insanity of all initial interaction between those of Black-spawn. Leaving his coat — which Ted seems to have forgotten about — in Andromeda's outstreched hand, James follows him.

Sirius obediently turns to Nymphadora, stripping off his coat as he does, and passing that to Andromeda. "Right then. Is it interesting, kid?" Nymphadora's reply is to turn her nose into something rather resembling a pig's snout. Sirius's reaction is gratifyingly fascinated. "That's disgusting," he declares, slightly awed. "I wish _I_ could do it."

Nymphadora grins, rather toothily, at him. 

"Have you seen this?" Sirius asks, addressing Andromeda but still staring at the pig snout on her daughter's face. When she only laughs and rolls her eyes, he adds, "Seriously, that's wicked, Dora. Let's go show James!"

"All right," Nymphadora agrees, bouncing into the living room. "James, James, look at this!"

Ted, settling into an armchair, looks at his daughter indulgently. "Is it the snout thing, Dora?"

Sirius trails her into the room, still with an expression of childish glee on his face, followed after a moment by Andromeda, who paused to hang up the coats.

"That," James announces, "is _brilliant_." He flashes her a grin before taking a sip of his butterbeer. "Promise me you'll do it to your Potions master…"

"Oooh," agrees Sirius, eyes widening eagerly, "Oh, that's a vicious idea, James. Absolutely vicious. I love it. Promise you will, Dora?"

"I wish you wouldn't give her ideas, Sirius," says Andromeda, apparently choosing to ignore that it was James who had started it in the first place. "She's like you, in that she'll probably _do_ them."

Nymphadora looks up at her mother. "Do what?"

Andromeda smiles at her daughter. "Anything and everything Sirius tells you, of course."

James nods, agreeing with her. "Now, anything _I_ say, on the other hand..."

" _Definitely_ don't do," declares Ted, from behind his butterbeer. He winks at Sirius.

"Yes, James is not a role model," agrees Andromeda, with a nod, and a sly look at her guests.

"I resent that," James says, his words betrayed by the grin on his face.

"It's your own fault," declares Ted genially.

"Mine, more like," counters Sirius, grinning and moving to take the seat next to James. "I've been leading him astray, don't you know."

James chokes a little on his drink.

With an innocent expression, Sirius peers concernedly at him. "All right there?"

"Pardon me," James says to his hosts, completely ignoring the man next to him. "So, did you have a nice New Year's?"

"Oh, yes," replies Andromeda, taking the chair near her husband. "We had tons of junk food and watched old movies all night. Even Nymphadora."

Nymphadora nods happily. "And I got to stay up _all night_!"

"And her mother let her have far too many sweets," adds Ted, still speaking from behind his butterbeer. It is, apparently, a comfortable position from which to conduct conversations.

"Well, naturally," James nods. "It's what mothers do."

At this, rather thoughtless statement, both Sirius and Andromeda shoot James highly unappreciative looks. In an attempt to gloss over his friend's lack of tact, Sirius hurriedly says, "At least, the ones who know how to have a good time. Why, Mrs P _always_ gives us too many sweets, doesn't she, Jimmy boy?"

Pausing for a moment, looking rather like he's just realised what he's said and to who, James nods. "Even now."

"Of course she gives you too many sweets," mutters Ted, appearing largely unaffected by the tension felt by the present and former Blacks. He gestures to Sirius. "I've seen that one around pie, you know."

Nymphadora laughs again, climbing onto Sirius's lap.

"Oof," says Sirius, giving her an affectionate jab to the ribs. "You're getting a bit big for this, kid."

"Nymphadora," says Andromeda in a very mother-y voice. "Didn't I tell you that you were supposed to _ask_ this time?"

Ignoring her mother, Nymphadora flashes him a rather, sweet, affectionate grin — followed by the action turning her nose from a pig snout into a big red clown nose.

"… Right." Sirius nods decisively, having been successfully converted to the idea of Nymphadora sitting on him. "Carry on. — Can you do a beak?"

Shaking his head as Nymphadora entertains Sirius with her duck beak impression, James turns back to Ted. "How's work?"

"Busy," replies Ted, grimacing. "You've no idea the number of injuries inflicted by stupidity, around the holidays."

"Please don't get him started," interjects Andromeda. "He's been complaining for weeks."

"I think I can imagine," James grins, glancing quickly at Sirius. Fortunately for him, Sirius misses this expression, being distracted by Nymphodra's showboating.

"I'm talking idiots with their noses transfigured to mistletoe, here, and folks whose bodies have turned to piles of confetti. It's ridiculous!"

James laughs. "That kind of stupidity takes _talent_."

"Too much Firewhiskey, more like," retorts Andromeda, smiling resignedly.

"Well, even managing to hold your wand after that much Firewhiskey is impressive. I usually can't even control my own feet, right, Sirius?"

"What?" asks Sirius, turning from where he was quite clearly engrossed with his cousin. "Control? Firewhiskey?" He pauses. " _You_?" Then he laughs.

"That's not very nice, Sirius," reproves Andromeda, though it seems to be for her daughter's benefit, as she is laughing as well.

"Sad but true," James agrees, shaking his head and grinning. "Although I can still fly, for some crazy reason…"

"That's because you could probably still fly even if you were dead, James," mutters Sirius. He makes a face at Nymphadora; it's nothing to any of hers, but then, he can't do quite the same things with his appearance that she can.

Andromeda looks at him with a curious, mischievous expression "Are you still jealous because you fall off of anything without wheels, Sirius?"

Both James and Nymphadora break out laughing. Sirius scowls. "I do not," he complains, but it is rather weak.

"I fall off everything," Nymphadora says, no hint of sadness in her voice. "Mum, I'm hungry."

Sirius jumps on this distraction. "Oh, me too. Starving!"

Andromeda raises her eyebrows at the pair of them. "That's nice. What do you expect _me_ to do about it?"

Ted can be heard snickering into his, now empty, butterbeer bottle.

"We're having steak," Nymphadora informs Sirius. "And I've made pudding, because mum says that's my job."

"Really?" he questions, looking down at her seriously. "That's a large responsibility, making pudding."

She nods at him. "Mum says that pudding is mostly for kids, anyway, so kids should make it."

For a moment, Sirius sputters. Ted is still snickering.

"For _kids_?!!" Sirius manages to exclaim, clearly rather indignant.

Nymphadora nods. "Because we have sweet tooths." She pauses. "Teeth."

Sirius sends an offended look at Andromeda, whose own expression is so serene that she _must_ have known what she was doing when she said such a thing to her daughter. "Kids aren't the only ones who have sweet tooths, kid," he mutters, destroying grammar in his preoccupation.

James mutters something about kids coming in all sizes. Nymphadora, meanwhile, looks up at Sirius, nose now back to normal. "How come you haven't got any kids, Sirius?"

Sirius, about to say something to Andromeda about cruelty to her relations, stops with his mouth open. He looks down at Nymphadora. His mouth closes and opens again, more than once, but no words come out. He glances at James. "Er."

The look on James's face is somewhere between mild discomfort and amusement.

Sirius clears his throat. "Because kids terrify me," he eventually says, and then he throws a half-hearted glare at Andromeda, who is smirking at him.

"I don't terrify you," Nymphadora states matter-of-factly.

"No, because you're not mine, are you?"

"Sirius is still a big kid himself," James finally says, the top of his ears a little red, maybe. "Who would raise who?"

"I happen to think children would be good for him," declares Andromeda at last, rising. "Force him to grow up, and all that. — Supper, anyone?"

Far from complaining about being hungry, Nymphadora seems to have forgotten all about food. "How old are you, Sirius?"

Sirius clears his throat. He looks imploringly to Ted for help. Ted, apparently inspecting the emptiness of his drink, offers none. Andromeda isn't any more help, and Sirius eventually, resignedly confesses, "Twenty-four, kid."

"Mum and dad were only twenty when they had me," Nymphadora states, looking rather pleased with herself. 

"Your point?" asks Sirius, perhaps a little shortly. He is now glancing between the girl's parents, as if he expects one of them to jump in and silence her.

"Dora," Ted finally calls, lowering the sad remains of his butterbeer. "Leave your cousin alone."

Clearing his throat, James stands up. "Well, I for one am starving."

"I said that already," says Sirius, looking like he wants to remove Nymphadora from his lap and stand up as well.

"Let's go into supper, then," suggests Andromeda, with a gimlet-eyed look for her daughter. " _Now_."

"All right," Nymphadora says as she jumps off Sirius's lap, unconcerned with the tension in the room.

A relieved looking Sirius follows her up off the couch, asking as he stands, "So, steak, then?"


	19. 23–29 January 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius is sick, James answers questions for the week, and Lily has a birthday.

**Monday, 23 January 1984**

* * *

_A note from the editor: Unfortunately, our dear Mr Black is incapacitated at the present time due to illness. However, his (frequently figuring in this column) roommate and friend, James Potter, is filling in for him until he feels well enough to return to his column-writing duties. Best of luck to Mr Potter, and hoping that you, dear readers, will show understanding in this matter. And let's all wish Mr Black a speedy recovery! \- T. Gale, Editor, Entertainment Section_

* * *

**Dear Sirius I want a monkey but mum says I need permission first. Dad's out of town so I thought I'd ask you. Can I have a pet? /Allyson, aged 11** Dear Allyson, Sirius REALLY isn't the best person to ask in these sort of situations, I'm afraid. Believe me. Have you got a nice, push-over sort of grandparent you could ask? James 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been going out with this really awesome Muggle girl for a couple of weeks now, and I'm really into her, but every time I try to, y'know, move things along, she puts me off. On top of that, the last time I went to pick her up she was running a little late, and her phone rang so I answered, and this little kid on the other end asked for Uncle Tony. And Toni's her name! Plus she's got a rather deep voice and, well, now I'm afraid she's actually a _guy_! What should I do? /Anxious Al** Dear Al, First of all might I suggest that you always tell this story at parties as it's hilarious. Second of all -- what difference would it make if she's really a bloke? You fancy her, she fancies you -- I say go for it, either way. Don't be so discriminatory! James 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm 22 years old, have plenty of money from my trust fund, and I think babies are just adorable. Plus, I like sex. Do you think I should have kids?? /Candie** Dear Candie, Babies eat up trust funds and sex lives. Or so I'm told. Consider that. James 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it safe to chew on the end of your wand when you're concentrating really hard, like you would a quill? My mates say it's not. But I've had this habit since I started school and I don't know how to break it! What do you think I ought to do? /In Her Fifth Year** Dear Fifth Year, That really doesn't sound like the wisest of bad habits! You might end up blowing your own nose off or something if you're not careful, which is hardly ever a good thing. Have you tried substituting your wand with something more chewable? Sugar quills, perhaps? James 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think my parents aren't raising me properly. Do you think I could get somebody to tell them how to do it right? /Matthew, 9** Dear Matthew, I hear that's what godparents are for. Got any of those? James  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 25 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My partner and I are refurbishing our flat, after an accident with an, er, Exploding Snap deck led to a fire. Problem is, neither of us really has any kind of... taste, really. Our biggest problem is what to do with our living room floor. We used to have this old, ugly hardwood. We can't decide if we want to replace it with new, or get carpeting. Neither of us has ever had actually carpet in our living room. What do you think we should do? /Lucas** Dear Lucas, You're not secretly living with Sirius, are you? Either way, I think the most important thing to consider here is this: carpets, in the end, are much more flammable than hardwood. And they might give you rug burns. On the other hand, they're... softer. If you're into that kind of thing. Best of luck with your interior decorating escapades, either way. James, whose floors are all hardwood, if that helps 

* * *

**Dear James, Is Mr Black going to die?? /Sarah** Dear Sarah, Don't worry! He is not going to die (despite what he might say in a very pitiful sort of voice to get my attention). He's just not fit for being in an office right now! /James 

* * *

**Dear James, Sirius is sick? What has he got? Where'd he catch it? Has he been having one-night-stands with disease ridden trollops? The public has a right to know! /R.S.** Dear R.S, Disease ridden trollops? That's a bit offensive, wouldn't you say? Not that it's any of your business, but he's got a nasty case of stomach flu. (Which he caught from a ten year old, so clean that dirty mind of yours! I hear bleach helps.) James 

* * *

**Dear James, What's a godparent? How do I get one? Do they sell those in Diagone Ally? /Matthew, 9** Dear Matthew, Ah. Oh dear! Godparents are these sort of nice people that bring you extra special presents when it's your birthday, kind of. You can't buy them, I'm afraid! Maybe if you go sit somewhere and look lost and pitiful, though, some kind soul will take you under their wing? (But don't accept sweets from strangers!) That, or you could just adopt a friend's parents as your own. Best of luck to you! James 

* * *

**Dear James But what would I tell my mum? My mates?! And I don't fancy _blokes_ , anyway — how can I fancy her if she's a he? /Al, still anxious** Dear Al, First of all, you don't even know if she is really a bloke so hold your panic horses! Secondly, what's more important -- that you've find someone you really like, and who really likes you back, or what your mum and your mates think?! Grow a pair, will you? Now, have you considered just asking her? Mind you, you might want to think about how you phrase that or she might slap you round the head with her handbag and you'll never see her again... which is an alternate way of solving the problem, I suppose. James  
---  
  
**Friday, 27 January 1984**

* * *

**Dear James, Why would you suspect Sirius of secretly living with one of his readers? (Or was that a joke?) Is there something Sirius hasn't been telling us?? (By the way, to the reader Lucas, if I may be so bold: Rug burns are worse than bruises. Also than splinters. Besides, carpets are harder to keep clean.) /Linda** Dear Linda, It was a joke. I do not see how he would have the time to mooch off someone else. (This was also a joke, in case you couldn't tell.) James 

* * *

**Dear James, Why didn't you tell me Sirius was sick? Oh, dear. Does your mother know? If she doesn't, you might want to tell her; she copes better with his whining than you do, if I remember correctly. I'd send R over with some of my chicken soup, but if it's stomach flu, that's probably a bad idea. And what's this going to do to my birthday, I ask you? Getting sick now isn't just a ploy to avoid us again, is it? _You'd_ better show up on Sunday, at least. /L PS: He always was a horrid patient, wasn't he?** Dearest darlingest Evans, Don't worry, I am dealing with it. With only a minimum amount of hexing, too! And who do you think is over there taking care of him when I'm at work? (I am doing _his_ job during my lunch hour, by the way. I'm going to need a holiday after this!) Don't send R over, you know how ridiculous his immune system is and he's even _whinier_ than Sirius when sick, I would hate for you to have to deal with that. And I will be there with bells on on Sunday. 6 pm, right? Have a very shiny present for you! Love, James PS: Pop on up to Portree for lunch one of these days, yeah? 

* * *

**Dear James, I'm so sorry to hear of Mr Black's indisposition. I always found him such a charming lad; his column is really quite friendly! And stomach flu's a dreadful thing, why, I can remember back in the day, my old man— but that's neither here nor there. Console him, if you can, with the knowledge that at least it isn't dragon pox, and give him my best wishes for a speedy convalescence, do. /A. Nutter, 78 years young PS: By the by, I heard a rumour, and I simply must know. Can you tell me, is it true Sirius sleeps in the buff?** Dear Ms. Nutter, I shall pass it on to him, I'm sure he'll be very grateful. And who told you that rumour?! My good upbringing forbids me to confirm or deny it. James 

* * *

**Dear James, Why shouldn't Matthew accept sweets from strangers? I like sweets. I bet he does too. And do you know anyone who adopted a friends parents? I don't have any friends. What do I do then? /Helen who is seven** Dear Helen who is seven, Didn't your mother ever tell you that sweets from strangers are bad? They usually pick out all the bogey flavoured ones and give to unsuspecting children, see! You wouldn't want that, would you? And yes, I do know someone who adopted a friend's parents! Good thing I am so good at sharing. No friends, you say? Oh dear. Well, wait until you get to school. If you still don't have any by then, I'm sure Sirius will be your friend! (Although I don't think you'll want to be adopting his friends anytime soon.) Have you tried going to the playground? James 

* * *

**Dear James, Oh, I knew that'd come out wrong. It's not that I care for _me_ what everyone'd think, but they like Toni, now, and if she really were a man, well, they'd probably not be so nice. And I don't think I'd like that. But if she's pretending to be a girl anyway, do you think she wouldn't mind keeping it a secret? Maybe not from everyone, but just the people who wouldn't take too kindly to it? Does _that_ sound really awful of me, too? I think I'll ask her about it tonight. Thanks for your help, even if you're not Sirius! /Al** Dear Al, Um, sure, I guess. I mean, it doesn't sound like it's something she wants the world and their mother to know, anyway. James PS: How did it go? 

* * *

**Dear James, Is Sirius really sick, or did he elope to Mexico? Mum thinks it would be just like him. /B. Weasley, 12** Dear Mr Weasley, You're the very first sixth letter answered in this column ever! It's because I'm in charge and I say so. Hah. ..... no, Sirius did not really elope to Mexico. At least he hadn't by the time I left the house this morning. Where on earth did your mother get that idea, anyway?! James  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of James Potter and Sirius Black  
29 January 1984  
5.34 pm** _

"…ugh…" groans Sirius, shifting restlessly on the couch, a futile attempt to get more comfortable. He's lying on his side, half-curled up in a ball; one arm is flung up over his head, the other cradled across his stomach. There's a fine sheen of sweat on all of his exposed skin, his hair is sticking damply to his neck, and he seems to be shivering a little — which is probably due in large part to the fact he's kicked to the floor the blanket he brought down with him from his room. "… _Jaaa_ mes..."

"Did you say something?" James hollers from upstairs somewhere.

"Jaaaaaaames!" Sirius repeats, more loudly, though from the sound of it he finds it rather painful to speak above a whisper.

"Merlin's pants, what?" James asks, leaning over the banister so he can regard the other man.

"…I'm cold."

James blinks. "Pick up your blanket, then."

"… _James_ ," says Sirius, the word a weak, pitiful whine.

"I'm busy!"

Sirius makes a pathetic whimpering sound.

"…. oh, for —" Shaking his head, James makes his way downstairs, picking up the blanket and throwing it at Sirius's face. "There."

Sirius mutters something appreciative, then a moment later, "…James?"

"What?"

Sirius manages to muster the energy required to push and pull the blanket so his face is visible and, with rather feverishly-bright eyes, looks up at the other man. "…… I want a hug."

James blinks. "You are how old again?" Nevertheless, he sits down on the sofa next to Sirius, holding out his arms. Without answering, Sirius clumsily fumbles himself into James's arms, his own tucked between them, hands clinging weakly to the sides of James's shirt. "Please don't get snot all over my outfit."

"'m not snotty," protests Sirius, snuggling closer. A pause. "I don't feel good."

"Of course you don't, that's the whole point of being sick," James replies, wrapping his arms around his best friend. "Will you be all right while I'm out?"

"… no. I'm _dying_."

James rolls his eyes.

"Really." Sirius tips his head back so he can look up at James. "Bet I die while you're out _having fun_ with Lily."

"You make it sound like I'm going on a date."

Sirius wrinkles his nose, scrunching up his face before he goes back to hiding it in James's chest. "Mmph, Remus and I would kill you."

James chuckles. "Is that so."

"Yes." Sirius waits a few moments, shifting restlessly again, before saying, "Well, he'd try, anyway."

"Oh, and you'd succeed?" James chuckles. "An old leper like you?"

"I'd wait 'til I was better," retorts Sirius, weakly. He groans. "I mean, dead. Besides, I'm sneaky, 'member?"

"Uh-huh." James pulls away. "Seriously, I have to get ready or I'm gonna be late." Sirius just looks up at him mournfully. "You look like a sad puppy." Sirius's expression, miraculously, grows even more miserable and pathetic. "That someone's been kicking," James adds.

Sirius whimpers.

James raises an eyebrow.

"…d'you _have_ to go?" Sirius eventually begs.

"Can you imagine Lily's reaction if I didn't?"

"…blame me?"

"Sirius."

"Fine. Fine." Sirius sighs gustily, and slides back into his previous position on the couch.

James leans over and places a kiss on his forehead. "I won't be late."

"Yeah, right."

"You'll be asleep five minutes after I'm gone anyway!!"

"…but you won't _be here_ ," Sirius whines right back.

"Don't be a baby," James says, tucking the blanket around him and straightening up. Mumbling something, Sirius closes his eyes and snuggles deeper into the couch.

"Pardon?"

"…nothin'."

Shaking his head, James says, "Call me on the mirror if you need anything, all right?"

"'course."

James stops, considering what he's just said. "If you _really_ need anything, I mean. I can't be Apparating back and forth just because you need a hug."

Sirius cracks his eyes open. "… but I _really_ needed one."

"Go to sleep, Si."

"Yessir…"

Sirius's eyes have closed again. He's apparently already half-way to doing as James told him. Shaking his head again, James returns upstairs. He's gone no more than ten minutes, reappearing to stroke the hair plastered to Sirius's forehead. "Hey, Padfoot."

Blearily, one of Sirius's eyes opens.

"I'm off."

Sirius groans. He closes his eye again.

James leans down and plants a kiss on Sirius now hair-free forehead. 

"Mmfph."

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm away, yeah?"

"… _sleep_."

"The mirror's on the table here next to your water bottle, all right?"

Sirius grunts something that sounds affirmative.

Taking a moment to regard his best friend rather affectionately, James finally disappears with a "pop".

\--------

"Helloooooo," James calls, about two seconds after Apparating straight into Lily and Remus's hall. "Moony?"

"Prongs?" replies a voice, from the kitchen. It is followed by Remus's head being stuck through the doorway. "That was rude, you know."

James just grins at him. "It's cold outside. I couldn't be arsed getting my coat."

"Lazy prat," says Remus, pulling his head back into the kitchen and calling, "Come have a drink! The women are upstairs."

Sauntering towards the kitchen rather lazily, James asks, "Women?"

"Mary, the birthday girl, and someone who works with the birthday girl," says the other man in the kitchen, beer bottle in handle. He smiles in greeting. "Hullo, Potter."

"Stuart!" James exclaims, coming over to shake his hand. "How are you, mate, haven't seen you in ages."

"Excellent, mate," replies Stuart, shaking his hand. "Mary's been trying to throw wedding details at my head again, of course, but I've learned to tune it out." Seeming to notice something, Stuart looks past James, frowns slightly, and asks, "Oy, you seem to've forgot something."

"Oh, lord," mutters Remus, with a roll of his eyes at this opening being handed to James. He compensates by retrieving a beer from the fridge and handing _it_ to James, as well.

"He's ill," James replies, not even batting an eye. "You'd think it was the plague, the way he's been behaving…"

"Oh." Stuart seems to consider this information. "What's he got, then?"

"Oh, some stomach thing. Not pretty." Grabbing the beer from Remus, James glances toward the ceiling. "I should probably go say happy birthday to the hostess."

"Oh, you don't want to go up there right now," Remus hurriedly informs him, also glancing up at the ceiling. Stuart is shaking his head quickly, apparently in agreement. James raises an eyebrow.

A loud squeal emits from the upper floor.

"… what are they doing?"

Remus and Stuart exchange mutually dubious looks. "Actually, we have no idea," admits Stuart reluctantly.

"What, and you're all too cowardly to find out?" James asks, removing his blue jumper and tossing onto a chair near the door. "What's the worst that could happen?"

The other two men share another glance. "Considering the looks on their faces when they dragged each other up there?" mutters Remus, shaking his head.

"Chickens," James announces, standing up. "Call yourselves men."

There are several more squeals from the upper floor. "Ooh, _Lily_!" someone exclaims, in rather excited tones. " _Really_!"

Shaking his head, James makes for the door, beer in hand. With a final, pretending-not-to-be-apprehensive looks at each other, Remus and Stuart follow him.

Ignoring the other two men, James makes his way up the stairs and into the smallish, cosy looking sitting room.

The three women — redhead, brunette and blonde — are arranged one on either end of a sofa, and one in an armchair near it. They each have an almost empty glass of wine — something white with bubbles in it — and are in the process of passing a rather large, half-full box of chocolates around with their wands. They do not seem to have noticed James, or the other two men arriving behind him.

As she takes a chocolate and pops it into her mouth, the blonde, Mary, whose legs are propped comfortably on the coffee table in front of her, looks too the other end of the sofa and exclaims, "—just from his trip to Milwaukee?"

Lily, sitting with her legs half curled under her, nods emphatically. She takes a drink from her wineglass, and then with one hand indicates the sparkling, lily-shaped clip in her hair. "Really, I think he might be better with gifts than I am!"

The brunette, from her spot in the chair — legs over one arm and back resting against the other — giggles. "You're going to let me meet him soon, aren't you?" she asks, swinging her feet and reaching for the chocolates. "I'm getting tired of watching you go off to lunch grumpy and come back snickering!"

Mary laughs. "Well, he's best when he's around—" In the process of reaching for the wine bottle on the coffee table, she turns her head enough to see the door, and she cuts off to give a surprised cry of, "James!" Then, "Stu! Remus!"

"Hello," James says, giving them a rather awkward-looking wave with his free hand.

The brunette, staring at him, squeaks slightly. Mary blushes faintly. "When did you lot come up?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder to Lily.

"Why, were you talking about us?" James asks, grinning at her before walking over to Lily, bending down to kiss her cheek. "Happy birthday, Evans."

"Not about _you_ , Potter — the other one," retorts Lily. "And thank you."

"Other one?" asks Remus, with a nervous glance at his girlfriend's friends.

Lily rolls her eyes at him. "Potter's shadow, Remus."

"Always the other one," James says, shaking his head with a pout. "How are you, Mary?" he then asks, planting a kiss on her cheek as well.

"Good," she replies, her cheeks not having lost all their pink yet. "Still engaged."

The brunette in the armchair is still staring at James.

"Fabulous," James grins, turning towards the brunette and extending a hand. "Hello."

The brunette transfers her gaze to his hand, then back to his face, and squeaks again. It sounds like it was meant to be the word "Hi" but came out wrong. She quickly thrusts out her own hand and shakes his vigorously. She doesn't seem to have blinked yet.

Giving her a somewhat bemused look, James says, "I don't believe we've met. I'm James."

"I know," the brunette manages to croak. "I never miss a game."

"Brilliant," James says with a grin. "… and you are…?"

The girl has remembered how to smile. She does so now. Widely. "… a _huge_ fan."

Rolling her eyes somewhat, Lily says, "Carolina Wildblood. We work together."

"I am _thrilled_ to meet you," Carolina adds quickly.

"Likewise," James states, looking down to where her hand is still firmly grasping his.

Face turning red, the woman hurriedly lets him go. She clears her throat. Then she glances accusingly at Lily.

"What?" Lily asks, raising her eyebrows.

Still in the doorway, almost as if they didn't dare venture into the room until James had ascertained that it is _completely_ safe, Remus clears his throat, while Stuart indicates his fiancée's wine glass and asks, "Is there some of that for us?"

"You have beer," Lily says rather cheerfully. 

Stuart glances down at the beer in his hand. He seems to have forgotten it was there. "Oh. Well." He shrugs, and gestures toward the wine again. "I like that better."

With a long-suffering sigh, Mary holds out her wineglass and mutters, "Oh, all right. I'll trade you, how's that?"

Still observing Carolina rather worriedly, James plops himself down between Lily and Mary on the sofa. Having switched his drink with Mary's, Stuart leans against her arm of the sofa. He looks expectantly at Remus, who hasn't entered the room yet.

"So," asks Remus, "am I bringing the cake up here, then?"

"You're giving us cake and no food?" James asks, sounding rather appalled.

"We were _expecting_ Sirius to be here," counters Remus.

"Still," James mutters. "I'm hungry."

"There's a roast in the oven," interjects Stuart. At Remus's sour look, he defensively adds, "What? I could smell it."

"I knew you wouldn't let me down, Evans," James grins at the woman to his right.

"We were expecting Sirius," is Lily's somewhat dry response. "Don't you have a present for me, anyway?"

"He ought to have," murmurs Mary, an aside to Stuart. "From Sirius, at least. Lily says he's still excellent with presents."

"So am I," James says, somewhat indignantly. Without bothering to get up, he waves his wand, muttering "Accio present". Seconds later he's holding a large-ish blue box, which he hands over to Lily with a flourish.

"And who picked this one out, then?" enquires Stuart blandly.

"… I helped," James grins, as Lily tears at the box with rather frightening enthusiasm.

Mary grins too. "Mmhm."

Lily lets out a small shriek as she uncovers the contents of the box; a double-breasted knee-length light brown velvety coat with black fake fur trimmings. Mary and Carolina simultaneously lean closer to see it better.

"I hope it fits," James says, running a hand through his hair. "Si made three different salesgirls try it on."

"A coat?" mutters Remus, staring at the present slightly incredulously. "That's their fantastic present? A _coat_?"

"It's _gorgeous_ ," Lily breathes, all but throwing herself at James. "Thank you."

Remus looks at the two of them like James has just performed some kind of magic of which he's never heard. Mary smirks and Stuart looks baffled, while Carolina regards the coat a little jealously.

"Yeah, well, it was mostly Sirius's doing," James says, his ears faintly red. He pats the top of Lily's head. "Glad you like it."

"Can I have him?" demands Mary abruptly.

"Which one?" Lily asks, eyes still on the coat.

With a brief glance at James, and while her fiancé regards her with amusement, Mary replies, "Sirius. Of course."

"No."

"Oh, but you'd give _me_ away, Evans?" James huffs, leaning back somewhat. 

"Oh, you're not hers," counters Mary, while pouting at being denied Sirius.

"And Si is?!"

Mary blinks at him. "Well, whose else would he be?" She pauses, very briefly, and then explains, "I mean, you can't _both_ own each other."

James blinks right back at her. "What?"

"I think what she's trying to say is that you're Sirius's, so Sirius can't be yours, because that would be… weird," replies Stuart, while Mary blushes a little. "Not that I know where she gets these ideas, of course."

A choking sound comes from Remus's direction. Then he eyes his girlfriend and her wineglass warily.

"Excuse me?!" James exclaims, sitting up straighter. "If _anyone_ belongs to _anyone_ , it's him, not me!"

Stuart and the women stare at him, while Remus makes another choking noise.

"What?" Mary eventually asks, looking slightly bemused. "Why?"

"Because," is James's only response. "Anyway, let's all coo over Evans' new coat, shall we? Go on, try it on."

Shaking her head, Lily nevertheless stands up and dons the coat.

"Ooh, it really _is_ gorgeous," cries Carolina. "Lily, I am _so_ jealous!"

Remus remembers he wanted to know something, and asks, "Why a coat?"

James states, deadpan, "Goes with the boots."

Remus blinks bewilderedly. "… _what_?"

"My brown boots, Remus," Lily says, giving a twirl. "The high-heeled ones."

"The two galleon ones?" asks Remus, at the same time Carolina says, "You know, I bet it does!"

"Two galleons?" James asks, looking bemused.

Lily gives him a quick but stern look. "I'll go get them," she tells Carolina, scurrying out of the room, coat still on.

Mary turns to Stuart and informs him, "Lily has fantastic boots."

"Aren't all boots?" replies Stuart, obliviously. Mary and Carolina both give him unappreciative looks. Luckily for him, Lily reappears a moment later, no doubt sparing him from a long explanation on various types of footwear.

Remus, who had been watching for her return, is quick to declare, "I don't get it. This coat looks the same with them as your other coat."

"Remus, my other coat is mauve!"

Remus's expression indicates that he has missed the point. Lily just shakes her head. "Oh, forget it."

" _I_ think they look perfect together," comments Mary, with another admiring look.

"Very nice," James agrees. "They're both… brown."

The look Carolina directs at him is slightly disillusioned.

Lily, noticing this, laughs. "The only colours James appreciates are purple, gold and scarlet."

Carolina seems appeased. Her slightly awed expression returns.

"Say, does he still have that hat?" asks Mary suddenly, regarding James but addressing Lily.

"Unfortunately," Lily grins.

"Hey!" James complains, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll have you know my dear mother made me that fine, fine hat."

"Hat?" Carolina questions blankly, looking from face to face.

"We know," Mary says kindly to James. "Which is probably the only reason Sirius hasn't burned it yet."

"I _like_ his hat," remarks Remus.

"… Why are we talking about James's hat instead of Lily's coat?" Stuart wonders aloud.

"Because we have already agreed that Sirius should be worshiped for his coat selection, and that Lily looks amazing," Mary answers him.

"They're just too simple to recognise my hat as the stunning piece of headwear it is," James states.

"Stunning is certainly one word for it," Stuart agrees, despite having just tried to change the subject.

The only one in the room who has never seen the hat in question, Carolina is looking quite lost.

Lily, having removed the coat and placed it over the back of the sofa, resumes her place next to James. "Atrocious is another."

"Vile," offers Mary.

James looks to Remus for support.

"I _like_ his hat!" Remus insistently repeats, as if on cue. "It's a nice hat."

"I really wish I knew what you all were talking about," mumbles Carolina.

"Hang on," Lily says, standing up once more. She walks over to a bookcase and takes out a large, leather-bound photo album. Flicking through it, she hands it to Carolina, pointing at a picture.

Carolina looks. She grins. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'," Lily agrees. 

"Horrid, isn't it?" demands Mary.

"I think I like it," admits Carolina, still grinning. She glances at James. Her grin widens.

"I think I like _you_ ," James grins back at her.

Carolina turns pink with pleasure and, impossibly, her grin widens even more. "Heh."

Remus is staring at the ceiling and shaking his head sadly. Mary looks amused. "Uh-oh," she whispers to Stuart, "this could get entertaining."

Suddenly, a weak voice from James's pocket calls, "…oy…"

James has the mirror out in less than five seconds. "What?" he asks, ignoring the weird looks from the others in the room.

In the mirror is Sirius's face, looking even more wan and sweaty than before; his hair is thoroughly plastered to his forehead. "…where'd y'put m'wand, Jim?"

"I didn't touch your wand, Sirius."

Stuart is eyeing the mirror with the sort of interest only a Muggle would be able to muster.

"Liar." Sirius's head flops from side to side sluggishly. "… y'took it away when I tried to cast the warming charm on the couch."

"Why was he casting a warming charm on the couch?" asks Remus softly, obviously hoping Sirius won't hear him.

James is just about to reply to this, when the mirror is snatched out of his hands. "Sirius!!" Lily exclaims loudly. "You look dreadful!"

"'course I do, 'm dying — and _cold_ ," replies Sirius, proving he can hear Remus, and managing a weak smile for her. "Happy birthday, Lils. Open your present yet?"

Lily nods, grinning. "It's stunning."

"Knew you'd like it," Sirius says, sounding smug even through his sickness. He flashes another ill smile. "'s James having fun?"

"Well, he's being fawned over," Lily says, grinning at Carolina. "He usually likes that, doesn't he?"

Carolina turns even pinker, and mutters a protest — which falls flat, as she is still beaming at James.

"…yes, he does," agrees Sirius, the muscles of his face slackening. "Don't let him have too much fun until after I finish dying, eh?"

"You're not dying," James mutters weakly. "Promise not to set anything on fire?"

"I'm _cold_ ," Sirius whines in response, looking pitiful. "Lily, tell him I'm cold."

"If I do, will you set fire to the couch?" Lily asks, still holding onto the mirror.

"No."

"Promise?"

"Solemnly swear."

Sighing, James says, "On top of the fridge, behind the biscuit tin."

Sirius stares through the mirror at them. "How'm I s'posed to _get_ to that, y'bastard?"

"That was the point!" James says, finally snatching the mirror back from Lily. "I'd like a house to come home to, thank you very much!"

"Why are they discussing setting fire to things?" asks Carolina curiously, in an undertone so as not to disturb the fascinating conversation. She'd directed the question at Mary, but it is Remus who replies.

"That's the sort of thing that happens when Sirius tries to cast charms while he's sick."

"Well, come warm me up, and you'll still have one," Sirius retorts grumpily.

Pausing only slightly, James rolls his eyes. "I am busy. Get an extra blanket. You can take the one in my room."

"I don't like that one, it's hideous."

"Oi!"

"You _know_ I loathe it," mutters Sirius, frowning with surprising energy, for a dying person. "I told you so last week, when you were trying to get me to—"

"All right, all right!" James interrupts. Very loudly. "Grab whatever you want, I don't care."

Visibly pouting, Sirius mutters something that sounds a great deal like "Fine" and his image disappears from the mirror. Shaking his head, James puts the mirror back in his pocket. "Swear to Merlin, he can't do anything without me."

"Wasn't Lily's coat his doing?" points out Mary.

"… he can't do anything that isn't fashion-related without me," James amends.

"The man is useless," says Remus, grinning now.

"You're one to talk," Lily grins at him. "Go check on the food, would you?" Making a would-be irritated face, Remus suppresses another grin, and goes. "He's so well-trained," Lily says, sounding impressed with her own handiwork.

"I know," says Mary, also sounding impressed. "You've done a good job on that one."

"And yet there's still no ring on my finger," Lily complains.

"Have you tried asking for one?" responds Mary, while Stuart gives her a very dry look which she ignores.

From downstairs comes the shout, "Food's done!"

James, rather predictably, is the first down the stairs.

\----------

Having excused himself politely but firmly (and after eating three helpings of cake), James arrives home just after 9 pm. Finding the living room Sirius-free, he pushes the door of the other man's bedroom open. "Hey," he whispers, quietly enough not to wake Sirius, were he to be asleep.

"Hey," comes the reply, rather more growled tiredly than spoken.

"You awake?" James asks, entering the room and crouching down on the floor next to the bed. "How're you feeling?"

Sirius, curled up very close to the edge of the bed, removes his arm from his head. "Bit better," he mumbles, squinting through the dark at James. "… you're back awfully early."

"Had to make sure the house was still standing, didn't I?"

"Didn't even touch my wand," Sirius says virtuously, only croaking a tiny bit.

James chuckles. "Brought home some cake for when you're feeling better."

Sirius groans lightly.

"Hm?"

"Cake," explains Sirius. Trying to prop himself up on one elbow and failing rather miserably, he tentatively asks, "So, how'd you like your evening of being fawned over and eating Lily's food?"

"Oh, y'know," James shrugs. "It was nice."

"… that's great." Sirius abandons his attempt to sit up at all, and puts his arm back over his face.

"It'd have been a lot better if you'd been there."

Sirius's arm comes back down again. James gives him a somewhat dorky grin. In response, Sirius gives him a pleased, slightly shy grin of his own. "Oh."

"Evans missed you, too," James says, fiddling with the corner of Sirius's blanket. "Wouldn't stop talking about you."

"Bet you were encouraging her," says Sirius. He stretches out the arm he'd had over his head, wrapping it loosely around James's neck.

"Nah," James grins. "I was too busy talking about myself with her coworker."

Sirius somehow manages to lift an eyebrow slightly. "Coworker? Which one?"

James pauses. "Cordelia. Camilla. Carlotta?"

"Oh, Carolina," says Sirius, nodding a bit. "The Prides fan. No wonder you were being fawned over." 

"I thought the two of you had never met?"

"We haven't, Lils just talks about her sometimes." Sirius pulls gently on the arm around the other man's neck. "How'd you know that, though?"

"Oh, she was telling Evans how she needs to introduce the two of you one day." James pauses, bringing a hand up to Sirius's hair. "Did you take a shower?"

"Bath. Hot."

"Nice?"

"Well, I don't smell like Moony anymore…"

James laughs. "That was horrible."

"Sick people don't have to be nice."

"Mm," James agrees, standing up. "Um. D'you want me to —"

"Where the hell are you going now?" demands Sirius, scowling, the moment James gets to his feet.

"… I'm taking my shoes off, Sirius."

"…oh." Sirius looks sheepish, but only slightly. "…and then?"

James bites his lip. "D'you want me to go back to my room tonight too?"

" _No_." The single word comes out in an extremely forceful tone, for someone who a few hours previous claimed to be dying.

This causes a small smile to spread over James's face. "All right."

Sirius just glares at him a bit.

"I'm just gonna go brush my teeth, all right?" James says, ignoring the glare and leaning down to kiss Sirius's forehead. "You go to sleep."

"Not yet," is the stubbornly spoken response. "I want to make sure you come back."

"Where else would I go, eh?" asks James, chuckling. "You've nicked my blanket, ugly as it is."

As the evidence is spread out across him, Sirius doesn't attempt a defense. "Well. Don't be long, then, all right?"

"You're very bossy for a dying person, you know that?" James asks, shaking his head as he exits the room.

"Yeah, well, you have a nice arse," Sirius mutters after him irrelevantly.

"What was that?" James calls from the hall.

"You're slow!"

Chuckling, James calls, "Go to sleep!"

Sirius closes his eyes.


	20. 30 January–5 February 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James answers questions for a second week, and Sirius visits his shopping buddy.

**Monday, 30 January 1984**

* * *

_A note from the editor: Mr Black is still ill, I'm afraid. In fact, he is banned from coming to the office all week, no matter how many owls he sends me stating that he is fine now (so you can stop it, Sirius; it's only 10 am and my desk is covered in droppings already!) as a gastric flu epedimy is not desireable at this department. Mr Potter has kindly agreed to substitute this week as well. For those of you missing Mr Black, however, I do have good news: starting next week, his column will be twice as big! Stay tuned for Sirius answering ten letters every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And treat Mr Potter well this week! /T. Gale, Editor, Entertainment Section_

* * *

**James, I am not whinier than Sirius. No-one is whinier than Sirius. Ever. And my immune system is not ridiculous! I'm only not being truly cross with you because I know how much you must be suffering, living with the Pit of Despair as you do at the moment... /R.L.** Dear Remus, You are, too. Need I remind you of that time you got a fever in our fifth year and spent two days trying to convince us all you were actually going to die? No, I didn't think so. Now go pay attention to the birthday girl or I'll do it myself. James PS: Smashing soirée last night -- did I leave my blue jumper around your kitchen somewhere? 

* * *

**Dear James, No, please, you must tell us! Does Sirius sleep in the buff? I'm sure there are lots of people who'd really, really like to know! /Anathema, Ms Nutter's relation** Dear Anathema (you're not a secret child of Sirius's cousin Andromeda, with a name like that, are you?), It is really none of your business. And why would I know, anyway? James 

* * *

**Dear James, My mother doesn't talk much. She is dead and my daddy married someone who is not. She talks very loudly at me all the time. What is a play ground? Are there friends there? Is Sirius there a lot? /Helen who is seven** Dear Helen, ... you poor thing. Once Sirius gets well again I promise he and I will come visit you and talk some sense into your daddy and take you out to the playground, how does that sound? James 

* * *

**Dear James, I can't thank you enough!! Really!! It went absolutely spiffingly, actually. And it's much nicer kissing her when I know she's a he and don't have to worry that he might be. And now he's not worried anymore that I might find out he's not a she, either! /The no-longer-anxious Al** Dear Al, So she WAS a he! I am thrilled it all turned out so well for you. Happy endings are my favourites! Best of luck to the two of you. James 

* * *

**Dear James, Bill wasn't going to answer your question so I thought I'd do it. Mum thought Sirius eloped to Mexico because Dad says she reads too much Witch Weekly. /C. Weasley, 10** Dear (other) Mr Weasley, Why Mexico? Mexico really isn't Sirius's style, you know. He has sensitive skin. He burns. Rather tragic, really! James 

* * *

**Dear James, I'm dying to know. Where are you going to go on your holiday, after Sirius comes back to work? Are you going to take Sirius with you? Does Sirius like holidays? I remember he said he enjoyed Milwaukee, but that doesn't mean anything because it's just strange for anyone to enjoy Milwaukee. So. Are you? /Desperately Curious PS: Can I have him while you're gone?** Dear Curious (who is also number six; aren't you lucky), On my imaginary holiday that I am not getting as the end of season is looming on the horizon, I am going to go home and sleep for two weeks and make Sirius pamper me. It's only fair, after all. So no, you can't have him or I'll have to pamper myself, and where's the point in that? James  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 1 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear James, Well, I'd imagine everyone would just think you'd know if Sirius sleeps in the buff, because you live with him. It's not a completely unrealistic supposition. Especially if he doesn't sleep with his door closed. Does he? /Newt, Anathema's husband** Dear Anathema's husband, Does your family have nothing better to do with your time?! Yes, he sleeps with his door closed. I'll pass this question on to him and let him answer it as he sees fit. (And as a married and therefore presumably straight male; why do you care?!) James 

* * *

**Dear James, What, does he have Weasley skin? Ok so Sirius would not go to Mexico. What about Gretna Green? Would he elope there? /P. Weasley, 7 1/2** Dear (yet another) Mr Weasley (Merlin there are a lot of you), I don't think he'll be eloping anywhere anytime soon. Sorry to disappoint your mother. James 

* * *

**Dear James, We're doing research. Does Sirius really eat all of his vegetables? He sounds to us like the sort of young man who'd say he did, but really feed them all to the dog, under the table, like. And a neglect of one's health in the form of proper vitamins and minerals and other nutrients is unpardonable! /Mssrs. Charles, Albert, Edward, George, William and Henry Whalsh, Wizarding Dietitians Extraordinaire!** Dear Mssrs. this and that and everybody, In fact, Sirius has been known to leave his food for the dog! I am, however, quite certain he's getting all his vitamins and notamins and what have you. Thanks for your concern, though! James 

* * *

**Dear James, I feel compelled to buy this thing called a "blender," but I'm not exactly sure why. Help! /Miss Dizzy** Dear Dizzy, I say give into the urge! I have no idea what this blender thing is but it sounds intriguing. Let me know how it goes! James 

* * *

**Dear James, I got a shoe caught in my waste disposal unit. How do I get it out? /Steve** Dear Steve, Buy a new waste disposal unit. And a new shoe, although I don't imagine you need to be told that. James 

* * *

**Dear James, Oh, oh, oh thank you thank you thank you! I would like that lots and lots! I read the new spapers all the time because I have nothing else to do but make my bed and Sirius's column is the only one I can most understand! /Helen who turned eight yesterday** Dear Helen, Bless you. And happy belated birthday; we'll make sure to celebrate that when we come over. James  
---  
  
* * *

**_Preesall, Lancashire  
2 February 1984  
3.38 pm_ **

Sirius is stomping along the street, pushing his motorcycle ahead of him, peering intently up toward houses as he passes them, and then mumbling to himself in a rather disgruntled way. Eventually he comes to a house which something about seems to please him, and he stops his stomping in order to kick down the stand for the bike. Then he resumes his progress, sans bike, this time up the house's walk.

When he reaches the door, he knocks on it sharply, rings the bell, knocks again, and then begins to tap his foot.

A few minutes later, the door swings open, revealing a young girl wearing a bright pink tracksuit, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail on the crown of her head.

"Hello, Ivy," says Sirius, rather perfunctorily.

The girl blinks. "What're you doing here?"

Sirius shrugs. "Visiting you?" he suggests.

"Er," Ivy says, not moving aside to let him in. "I'm cleaning."

"Brilliant," declares Sirius roundly. "Can I watch, then?"

"… You want to watch while I clean?"

"Sure." Sirius pauses a moment, then shrugs again, flashing her a wide grin. "I've nothing else to do, after all. Jim and my editor are in league against me, hoping to murder me with ennui, since the flu didn't finish me off."

Ivy eyes him suspiciously. It would appear it's not every day that men she's only met once, and at the grocery store no less, request to watch her clean. "Right…"

Sirius's smile fades a bit. "Honestly, Ivy, I'm just bored out of my mind and all my friends are at work," he insists. "I'm not here to, like, axe murder you, or anything. I won't even ravish you!"

"I suppose you can't be swayed on that point?" Ivy asks with something of a wry grin. "Come on in. Excuse the mess."

"Nah; still taken," replies Sirius, gratefully following her into the house. "And I'm not really likely to hold a bit of mess against you, under the circumstances. — Nice." Ivy raises an eyebrow at him, walking into her living room, which is nearly as pink as her outfit. "Like that colour, do you?" queries Sirius, looking around.

"Would you believe me if I told you the walls were this colour when I moved in?"

Sirius laughs. "Only if you tell me it was the deciding factor in choosing the house."

"Perhaps," Ivy grins. "That, and the fact that it's on the other side of the village from my mum and dad's."

"Ah, getting away from the parents." Sirius nods solemnly. "Always a contributor, isn't it?"

"They're not that bad, all things considered," Ivy shrugs. "Just that they like to tell me what to do and how and when. And why."

"I hear parents do that." Sirius nods again, maybe the tiniest bit stiffly. "So, what were you cleaning?"

"The house," is Ivy's, not very helpful, reply.

"…what, all of it?"

"Yep."

Sirius looks around again. "… by yourself? At once?"

Ivy just looks at him. "Who else would do it?"

"You mean you don't have a roommate?" A vaguely appalled expression takes possession of Sirius's face. "You poor thing."

"Just me," Ivy says, nodding so that her ponytail bobbles rather alarmingly. "No one to take advantage of."

"A pity. I highly recommend that course of action," replies Sirius, with a sad shake of his head. He indicates a sofa — it is pale pink and smothered in pink, red and white pillows, some of which look like they might be heart-shaped — and asks, "Is it safe to sit on?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I think it might eat my masculinity, that's all."

Ivy raises an eyebrow. "Are you concerned with that sort of thing, then?"

"What kind of man would I be if I wasn't?" he retorts lightly, while moving over and lowering himself — not at all gingerly — onto the sofa.

"One at ease with himself?" Ivy suggests, eyebrow still raised. "And with your shopping habits…"

"Oi!" Sirius might be blushing, but it's difficult to tell, as the pink on his cheeks could just be reflected off his surroundings. He clears his throat. "I'd rather hoped you'd forgotten _that_ …"

"Not something that easily slips your mind, that," says Ivy, grinning slightly.

Sirius grumbles under his breath. "It wasn't _that_ interesting."

"Not really, no," Ivy agrees, plopping down next to him on the sofa. "Doesn't mean it slipped my mind."

"You must have a very interesting mind, then." It is Sirius's turn to raise an eyebrow. "I thought you were cleaning."

"I was."

"…are you done, then?"

"Does it look like I'm done, Sirius?" Ivy asks, glancing around the room. "So."

Sirius also glances around the room. "Ah." He shoots her a sideways glance.

Ivy pokes his leg. "Who's the happy… girl? Guy?"

"I'm delighted you didn't mention sheep."

"Why would I?" Ivy asks, sounding rather appalled. "Don't be disgusting."

"You also didn't mention old ladies," Sirius adds.

"Why, _is_ it an old lady?"

"NO!"

"Oh," Ivy says, very matter-of-factly. Then she waits. Sirius regards her, intentionally blank. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, which one is it?" Ivy asks with a roll of her eyes. "Really, now."

"Oh. I'm not going to tell you _that_." Sirius pauses to grin innocently. "It wouldn't be any fun."

"Oh, come on!" Ivy exclaims, slapping his leg slightly. "Just give me something here!"

Sirius's grin gets minutely larger. "Well, why don't you guess, and I'll tell you if you're right?"

"How in the bloody hell am I supposed to guess _that_ , Sirius," Ivy says, rolling her eyes once more. "There are only, what, five billion people on the planet?"

"Haven't you ever played a question game?" Sirius demands maybe a little bit condescendingly. "You start with basic questions like are they a Muggle and move on from there." He reaches over and pokes her side teasingly. "Really, it's quite fun."

Ivy looks doubtful. "All right," she finally says. "Is it a Muggle?"

"Definitely not." Sirius's grin widens again.

"Is it a wizard?"

He raises his brows. "As opposed to what, a centaur?"

Ivy seems to think this is a very silly question. "As opposed to anything!"

"Very well then, yes, it is a magical person," replies Sirius, clearly amused.

"That wasn't what I asked!"

"No?"

Fixing her eyes on him, Ivy repeats, "Is it a _wizard_?"

"Well, it certainly isn't a _witch_." Sirius's grin turns briefly predatory. "Not at _all_."

"All right, then," Ivy nods. "Is it someone fit?"

" _I_ think so..."

"Are you at all objective?"

"In this case?" Sirius pauses a moment, pulls a thinking face, and then declares solemnly, "Absolutely fucking not."

Ivy grins at him. "That's not very helpful, is it?"

"Nope." He matches her grin. "However, I do have it on very good authority that I'm not the only one who thinks so."

"Do _I_ think he's fit?"

"… Uh, yes."

"How do you know?" Ivy asks, blinking. Sirius grins at her infuriatingly, and doesn't reply.

"We've never discussed fit blokes," Ivy points out. 

"And I never said you'd actually _said_ he was a fit bloke," Sirius points out.

"Then how do you know?!"

"Call it an educated guess."

Ivy blinks again. "It's not Ludo Bagman, is it?"

"Bloody— No."

"Oh."

"Why Bagman, out of curiosity?"

"He's fit," Ivy says, shrugging.

"I hadn't noticed."

"And you call yourself a sports journalist!" Ivy says, shaking her head. "All right, is it a Quidditch player?"

"I bet you're just asking that because of my job," Sirius accuses, with a tiny sigh.

"Is it?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"How the hell are you a Qudditch player in a manner of speaking?" Ivy asks, voice rising. "That's just silly."

Sirius smirks. "Some people play Quidditch on weekends and things, you know."

Ivy smacks his shoulder. "Is it a professional Quidditch player?"

"I should say so!"

"Hmmmmm."

Tilting his head to one side, Sirius quirks a brow at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just thinking," Ivy says, frowning. "If you're going out with a professional Quidditch player, doesn't James get very jea —" She cuts off abrubtly.

Sirius's expression studiously doesn't change as he continues to regard her curiously. "Hmmmmm?"

She gives him a pointed look. A very, very pointed look.

"What?" he asks, innocently.

"It is, isn't it."

"It is what?" counters Sirius. "Someone to make James jealous?"

"No."

"Indeed."

This, apparently, is the last straw for Ivy's patience. "Bloody hell, are you and James Potter fucking or not?"

"Oh, dear." Sirius pretends to peer at her concernedly, his eyes laughing. "You seem rather agitated, Ivy, are you sure you're all right?"

Ivy narrows her eyes at him.

"I guess you are, then…" mutters Sirius, not quite able to suppress a small snicker.

"I'm all right," Ivy says, her voice calm once more. "And I'm right, too, aren't I?"

"See, I'm in a difficult position here," explains Sirius gently, gesturing at himself with one hand. "If I tell you that you are, then I risk being murdered in my sleep by Lily Evans. If I tell you that you _aren't_ , well, then, I'm a liar."

" _Hah!_ " Ivy exclaims, grinning widely. "… murdered in your sleep?"

"For not telling her first." Sirius shrugs. "She'd feel she was entitled."

"Oh. Well." Ivy pauses. "I promise not to tell anyone, then."

Sirius reaches out and flicks the side of her nose with one finger. "Good girl," he grins. "Curiosity satisfied now?"

"More or less," Ivy replies, grinning. "I don't suppose I can keep asking questions, can I?"

He laughs. "Oh, if you'd like. I suppose I can't get myself in any _more_ trouble, can I?"

"I suppose not," Ivy agrees. "So is he any good in bed?"

Sirius's reply is a smug leer. Ivy grins right back at him.

"Fantastically," he eventually adds.

"Well, congratulations."

"Thanks."

Ivy pauses for a moment. "I don't suppose he's into threesomes, is he?"

For a moment, Sirius seems unable to formulate a reply. Then his brain apparently kicks back in and, laughing slightly, he replies, "I have no idea, actually, but I doubt it."

"Pity," Ivy says, shaking her head. "You don't think you could talk him into it, could you?" She pauses. "Unless it's not really your scene, either."

Sirius laughs again. "I'm sorry, Ivy, but it really looks like you're out of luck."

Ivy sighs rather deeply. "Oh well. Worth a shot." Shaking her head, she stands up. "And you're keeping me from my cleaning, you know."

"Kicking me out already?" pouts Sirius, a bit of a whine entering his voice.

"You're welcome to help, if you want!"

Sirius makes a face. "If I wanted to clean, I could have done that at home."

"Well…" Ivy seems to consider this. "Why don't you just sit there and look decorative, then?"

"All right! I think I'm rather good at that."

"Excellent," Ivy states, grinning broadly at him. "Now, where did I put that mop…"

* * *

**Friday, 3 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear James, Well can he just go to Aruba then? /F. Weasley, almost 6 (with help from B. Weasley)** Dear Mr Weasley (I have lost count by now of which one), I think Aruba would be even worse than Mexico, to be honest. This is a man who enjoys holidays in Milwaukee, after all. James 

* * *

**Dear James, I bought a Blender! It turns out it's this marvellous mixing thing for Potions that chops up all sorts of stuff, like carrots and ice and rats!! /Miss Dizzy** Dear Dizzy, Excellent! I never was very good at Potions; maybe I should invest in one? /James 

* * *

**Dear James, My new mother-in-law is a hag. (No, really!) What do I get her for mother's day? I'm at a complete loss!! /Arnold** Dear Arnold, Oh dear. Literally a hag? Because then maybe you should have considered this before you married her daughter! If you're speaking figuratively, get her something useful but dreadfully boring. Like a rutabaga, perhaps. I wouldn't know, I've never had a mother in law! Lucky me. James 

* * *

**Dear James, I think Mr Newt's interest in whether or not your roommate sleeps naked is probably just academic curiosity on his part. He's got a great deal of curiosity. He just doesn't know what to do with it. But to my point. Why are you so against answering the question yourself? Afraid to admit you don't know something? /Pepper, Newt's sort-of-friend** Dear Pepper (is that REALLY your name?), Oh for goodness' sake, do you people never give up? What part of "I am not going to tell you" do you people not get? Do YOU sleep in the buff? James, who has lots of knowledge, thank you very much 

* * *

**Dear James, Let's say I wanted to learn to juggle, and I taught myself and decided to start practicing. And let's further say that I chose my mother's favourite Christmas tree ornaments (antiques from her great-great-grandmother Methle) to use as juggling balls, because they were shiny and caught my eye. On top of that, lets say I really, really suck at juggling, and she's been looking high and low for those crystal baubles since Christmas. Now. Assuming all of that were true. Do you recommend the Outer Hebrides, or Siberia? /Hubert** Dear Hubert, Ouch. How does Aruba sound to you? James 

* * *

**Dear James, It's bad when you start seeing pink elephants, isn't it? /Kelvin** Dear Kelvin, Well, that depends. Are there really pink elephants where you are? If not, then it's probably not a good sign. If there are... it's probably still not a good sign. Elephants are rather big, you know. I've heard they tend to break things. James 

* * *

_Well, that's it for me, readers! Thank you for indulging me, it's been most educational. I hope you all come out to support the Prides on Tuesday, February 21, at home in Portree! Cheers, and have a lovely weekend! \-- James Potter_  
---


	21. 6–12 February 1984

**Monday, 6 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear James, Pepper (that is her real name) does indeed sleep in the buff. And she's not ashamed of it, either! There, your turn! /Pepper's friend Adam** Dear Adam, While I, too, wonder at your (apparently communal) interest in my sleeping habits, I have to thank you for annoying James while I was sick. Not enough people do that for me. However. I'm not going to answer, either. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you tell a person who you know is madly in love with you but you only like as a friend, the day after you drunkenly snogged them for a good half an hour? /Sober and panicked** Dear Panicked, Well, you might try, "I'm sorry I got drunk and took advantage of you. I was horny. If you don't like being used, you probably shouldn't be around me when I'm drinking in future, because if I've done it once I'll probably do it again. Sorry I hurt you, and all that." Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Welcome back! How was your sick leave? /Your biggest fan** Dear Fan, Thank you! My sick leave was miserable. I was dying and James ignored me!! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband keeps swearing in front of our three young children! They're very impressionable -- just yesterday I caught my four-year old daughter using the phrase [ _censored_ ]. He doesn't see anything wrong with his behaviour -- what should I do? /Mrs Pottymouth** Dear Mrs Pottymouth, You could try explaining to him that it is not normal for preschoolers to speak like sailors, and that it's his influence causing this. If he thinks he'll have too much trouble stopping the swearing cold turkey, try setting up an incentive program of some sort. Such as, every time they hear him say anything of a rude, crude, or otherwise less than desirable nature, he has to add an extra thousand pounds to their university funds, if you're Muggleborn, or whatever. Something to that effect. (Also, I hear that being beat over the head with a frying pan helps clear up cases of chronic cursing.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear James, I've been told Sirius snores. Is this true? /P.A.** Dear P.A., Unfortunately for you, James is not going to be answering this question, so you'll never know the truth of things, will you? What does it matter if I snore? And who told you!? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I share a flat with two friends, who have recently become romantically involved. I think this is great as it's been clear to everyone but the two of them that they're made for each other for ages. However, they keep having very loud... relations.... without any consideration to me! Not just in their bedrooms, either -- the other day I got home from work and they were going at it on the living room sofa! What should I do? /Fifth wheel** Dear Fifth wheel, Remind them that you live there, too. Use cold water, if necessary. Alternately, force them to help you find and pay for other living arrangements, since their behaviour is the reason for your dissatisfaction with the current set up. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How old were you when you entered manhood, so to speak? And who was the lucky lady? /R.S.** Dear R.S., You are disgusting, did you know that? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear James, Can Sirius go to Antarctica, then, if he does not like hot weather? /G. Weasley, almost 6 (with help from B. Weasley)** Dear Mr Weasley (good Lord, there are a lot of you), It isn't hot weather that I don't like, it's the sun. My pale skin burns quite easily, you see. And Antarctica has lots of sun, too — and lots of bright ice and snow and stuff for that sun to bounce off of. I don't think I should go there. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear James, Hi! It's Charlotte from Penzance -- remember me? I just wanted to say it's been much too long and that we should get together soon again! Fancy you writing for the paper, now! Love, Lottie** Dear Lottie, Who is Charlotte from Penzance? I've never heard of you. And James doesn't write for the paper, really. I do. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Did you read James's work on your column while you were ill? If so, what did you think of it? /Kara** Dear Kara, Yes, I read James's work. I had to do something to distract myself from the fact I was dying. I think James was almost as amusing as I am, actually. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 8 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a horrible feeling that letter from that Sober and Panicked person the other day was directed at me! I accidentally snogged my best mate (who I have been in love with for years, although I don't think he knows) while drunk and he hasn't talked to me since! I'm really really really really REALLY worried our friendship is ruined forever -- what should I do?! /K.** Dear K, You poor thing! Well, it seems to me that if you can accept he doesn't feel the same about you (which it would seem he doesn't), and still want just his friendship, then you should push to talk to him. Maybe not about _that_ , but by talking to him like normal, and not acting as if you expect anything else, you should probably be able to get your point across without going into anything awkward. On the other hand, doing that leaves room for a terrible misunderstanding, if in fact he feels something more than friendship for you, too, but is too afraid to say — I recommend you force him to actually have a serious conversation about it with you. Hex him, if necessary. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever been to France? Is it true they eat slugs there? Don't they have any proper food? /Bertie, aged 9** Dear Bertie, Yes, I've been to France. I do not recall eating slugs there, so they must have some proper food... unless they save all of it for the tourists and eat the slugs in secret? Do you think they might do that? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you feel knowing that there are lots of young children reading your column? /Parent** Dear Parent, I feel rather worried, actually. I wonder what sort of parents would let them do such a thing! It's a parent's responsibility, after all, to monitor a child's consumption of certain medias, until such time as they're old enough to be responsible for it themselves. I really do get quite concerned by it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Such hostility! Maybe the reason for this verbal attack on my person is because you have yet to obtain such a status? /R.S.** R.S., On the contrary, that verbal attack on your person, as you called it, was due to the incessantly prying nature of the letters you keep sending in. Forgive me, but it really doesn't seem to me that you — or any of my readers, for that matter — really need to know when I lost my virginity, or to whom, or even if I've lost it at all. That's a private, personal matter, and it is beneath you to speculate about it in such a low fashion. Also, I would ask that you refrain from insulting my in my column... if you can. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Oh, hello! I didn't realise you were going to be back so soon! Can you pass my address on to James, then? I'm a former girlfriend of his and I'm hoping we could meet up again to discuss old memories! /Lottie** Dear Lottie, I would repeat that I've never heard of you, but that would sound silly. Certainly, I'll make sure he hears you've been writing in, and what your address is. I'm certain he'd _love_ to discuss the past the two of you share. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm in my seventh year at Hogwarts, and my best friend wants us to live together once we leave school. However, he is an absolute slob who leaves dirty socks everywhere and has no sense of responsibility -- really, sharing a dorm with him is bad enough! How do I tell him this without really hurting his feelings, and our friendship as well? /Conflicted** Dear Conflicted, I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that you could ask him if he's going to be bringing the house elf... or paying for the maid service? Or maybe ask if you could be _neighbours_... Or, you could do what my friend James did, and move in with your friend, regardless of his irresponsibility and sloppiness. I don't _think_ living with me has hurt him yet, apart from the minor strain to his vocal chords from yelling at me not to leave my wet towels in a pile on the bathroom floor, or to put my trousers back on... or at least not leave them on the coffee table. Minor inconveniences, compared to the joy of sharing a house with his best mate, I'm sure. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My parents like my little sister a lot more than they like me. They're always telling her how pretty she is and how clever she is and how much they love her and they never say anything like that to me! Do you think I've done something wrong so they don't love me anymore? /Amy, aged 12** Dear Amy, Well, did you murder somebody? 'Cause if you didn't, I think we ought to smack your parents. It's inappropriate that they favor your younger sister over you — even if it were true, which I'm sure it's not, dear. I'm thinking of starting a club for all of my underage readers whose parents I'd really like to hex; would you like to join it? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Help! I've just gotten together with this brilliant girl and it's great. Only problem is she's my first girlfriend and I'm her first boyfriend and whenever we kiss our teeth bang together and once my lip even started bleeding! What are we doing wrong? /Novice** Dear Novice, It sounds to my like you just haven't gotten enough of a sense of each other yet. Maybe you're both just being too forceful? Regardless, I advise lots of practice. An arduous task, I'm sure, but it will be worth it in the end. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My sister's boyfriend is a complete idiot! He's disrespectful to her and to our parents, he's rude and inconsiderate and he's just a complete twat. And now she's saying she wants to move in with him! What should I do? /Worried sister** Dear Worried, Hex him. Leave him at the bottom of a ditch. Don't tell your sister you did it. Or, you could offer to move in with her yourself. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am stuck in bed with the mumps (of all things) and since you were recently in a similar position, I thought I'd ask you. What should I do to pass the time? I've only been sick for two days and I'm bored out of my mind already! Help! /Hamster boy** Dear Hamster, Do you have anyone to play Exploding Snap with? Or you could practice it, with yourself. Lots of magazines are good, too. And the telly; I watched a lot of footie. And I read the paper, studiously, but that might not have the same appeal for you. You don't have to keep a close eye on what your best friend has been up to with your job while you've been sick. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 10 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you enjoy stand-up comedy? /Ian** Dear Ian, Well that depends on the comedian, doesn't it? I love it when my friend Remus starts doing stand-up comedy after he's had lots of drinks — but that's probably because he's unintentionally funny. He doesn't even tell actual jokes. Quite embarrassing, really. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Can you please tell Lottie that I think it's better that we leave the past in the past and just cherish those memories of the summer of 1974? (Sorry, Lottie -- I just don't think the thrill is still there!) Oh, and can you pick up some milk on your way home? There was an... incident. /J PS: You have too heard of her! Don't be so rude to the poor girl.** Dear James, Of course. I'd love to. And I don't want to know what you did with the milk, do I? Sirius PS: You sound like your mother. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. I'm a 19-year old male currently in my first romantic relationship (since about six months back). Everything is fabulous and great and I'm very much in love. However, my partner is another man, and I have no idea how to tell my family and friends about this! I don't think they'd ever suspect it of me which makes it harder to bring up. I'm so sick of hiding my happiness, though! What should I do? /David's boyfriend** Dear David's boyfriend, That sounds complicated. You have my sympathy. However, I don't think I have any useful advice for you — that's one of those highly individual situations where the advice that would do for one person, wouldn't do for another. You might try snogging your boyfriend, someplace where your closest friends are liable to find you... and thus avoid actually telling them? Just a thought. I hope things work out for you, and congratulations to you and to David! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I was just wondering if you're aware that there's a book being written about your family? It's set for release in August. Is this endorsed by you? /Juliet** Dear Juliet, ... No, I was not aware. Since I didn't know anything about it, I would assume that it cannot be endorsed by me. In August, you say? I don't suppose any of my readers could tell me who's writing this book? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Maybe you can go back to Milwaki since you liked that so much! Since you don't want sunshine. /R. Weasley, nearly 4 (with help from C. Weasley)** Dear Mr Weasley (I am amazed that there could possibly be this many of you, by the way), I never said I didn't want sunshine! I just don't want to be spending all day, every day in sunshine. It's sort of too much of a good thing, if you know what I mean. And aren't you a little young to be writing in to newspapers? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you do when your mate steals your girlfriend? Has this ever happened to you? /Left behind** Dear Behind, You poor fellow. No, that's never happened to me. It sounds like it sucks, though. However, since neither of those people were committed enough to their relationship/friendship with you (obviously, or they wouldn't have done that), I'd try my best to avoid pining. Revenge would probably be fun. I assume you know where they live? Try covering their houses in toilet tissue. Or dragon dung. And maybe find yourself a really, really hot girlfriend — but don't let any of your mates spend much time around her. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My children will not stop fighting and I am at wit's end! My daughter (8 years old) gives her younger brother a smack every time she walks past him, and he deals with this by taking it out on his little brother's scalp! My poor little one is only three years old and nearly bald thanks to his brother. They only do this when I turn my back, as well, and then they all blame each other! What should I do? /Mum to marauders** Dear Marauding Mum, Um. Turn them in and get new ones? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Lots of people at school are teasing me and calling me names like ginger and carrot-top! It's making me really sad. Should I shave off all my hair? /Elise, 12** Dear Elise, Don't get rid of your hair! Definitely don't get rid of your hair! Clearly, the people at your school are just jealous that their cranial follicles are not as interesting as yours. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it wrong to get pregnant on purpose to stop your husband from leaving you? /Alison** Dear Alison, It is very, very wrong. Not only would it constitute emotional blackmail of your husband (which is cruel and childish), but it would not be good for you, and it would definitely not be good for the child. It's not fair to any of you. If your husband is going to leave you, and would only stay because of the baby, he'd end up resenting you, and the baby; if you have any self-respect at all, you should not do this. Perhaps, though, if you're so certain your husband is going to leave you... you should leave him. But do not — and I feel very strongly about this — bring an unwanted child into the situation. There's nothing more heartbreaking than an unwanted kid, in my opinion. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you feel about this year's Quidditch season at this point in time? /Oliver** Dear Oliver, On the whole, I'm rather unimpressed by it, actually. Not nearly enough of the teams are performing as well as they should be. I'm quite proud of Portree, though — did you see their last game? Potter made six goals! Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
10 February 1984  
11.42 pm**_

"Shit!" This exclamation comes after a rather loud crash and is muttered to a very dark living room. "Bloody hell, don't we have any lamps around here?"

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor comes from the kitchen, which is apparently the only properly-lit room in the house, followed by a half-alarmed, half-amused cry of "James?"

"Why have we no ruddy lamps?!" is the reply.

Sirius appears in the hall doorway, obviously just having come from the kitchen, and though it is very difficult to tell with him silhouetted by the light and facing the dark living room, he is grinning. "Perhaps because you're breaking all of them?" he suggests innocently.

"I have never ever broken a lamp ever in my life," James protests. 

" _Lumos_ ," mutters Sirius, pulling out his wand and directing its light toward the floor near James. He shoots a significant glance, raised eyebrows and all, at the mess, and then at James. "Haven't you."

James is sitting on the floor, not one, but two broken lamps at his feet. He stares at them as though he's never seen them before in his life. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'," agrees Sirius, shaking his head sadly. He's still standing in the doorway.

Pointing his finger at one of them, James mutters " _Reparo_ ", and looks rather confused when nothing happens. Sirius can't help rolling his eyes at this. "Merlin." He waves his wands at the other lamps in the room, douses the light at its tip, and puts it away. He crosses the room to stand near James with his hands on his hips. "Dare I ask how much you've had to drink?"

"No," states James firmly. He peers up at Sirius. "You look nice from this angle."

This prompts a smile from Sirius. "And here I always wanted you at my feet," he mutters wryly. "I don't suppose you'd consider getting up off that floor and all that glass, would you? I can't be arsed to deal with it now."

Giving him a rather plastered-looking grin, James reaches out both of his hands. "You gonna help me?"

Which earns another smile, as well as a disbelieving shake of the head. "Oh, all right," replies Sirius, with feigned reluctance, and reaches to pull James up. In a move that's probably meant to be smooth, but is rather anything but in his current state of un-soberness, James's arms immediately go around Sirius's waist the moment he's upright.

"James…" Sirius says, instinctively putting one arm around the other man, just in case his body decides he wants to wind up on the floor again. "What were you doing in here, anyway?"

"Flooing," James states matter-of-factly. "And I am thinking we should move the fireplace somewhere more spacious. Very cluttered in here, isn't it?"

"Quite," agrees Sirius, and he's very definitely amused now. "And where should we put it instead?"

James grins at him. "How about my bedroom? It's not like I'm ever in there anymore."

Sirius grins. "Yes, well, I'm sure someone would notice that fact, if we had them Flooing in and out at all hours."

"Who're you expecting to floo in in the middle of the night?" James asks, pulling back a bit to observe him. "Anything I should know of?"

"Hmmm well, one never knows, does one?" Sirius says teasingly. He winks. "I'm quite popular, you know."

Letting go completely, James takes a step back to observe him. "No wonder."

Sirius raises one eyebrow, then glances down, as if trying to look at himself, too. "What?"

"You're gorgeous, did you know that?"

"Am I?" asks Sirius laughingly, teasingly adding, "You're not bad yourself."

"Fucking pretty," James adds, either ignoring or not paying attention to Sirius's answer. "Really fucking pretty."

"Really." A tiny line appears between Sirius's eyebrows, and some of the amusement fades from his face; he doesn't seem to know how to take this continued praise.

James nods vigorously. "Really."

"Well, thank you, I'm glad you think so." Sirius flashes a quick smirk, his previous expression disappearing. "How drunk did you say you were, again?"

"Drunk, schmunk," James says, waving a little. "Puddlemere beat the Falcons so now we're ahead of both of them. Had to celebrate. But you're pretty even when I'm sober, y'know," he says very matter-of-factly, taking a step back towards Sirius.

"I am delighted to hear it," is Sirius's reply to both statements, along with what might be a snicker.

James grins at him, placing his hands on the other man's waist. "You gonna give me a kiss or what?"

"Oh, did you want one?"

"Why'd you think I'm home so early?" James asks, as if it were obvious.

"I suppose you do, then," Sirius pretends to muse, and then obligingly leans in to give James a rather enthusiastic, warm kiss.

James responds in kind, one of his hands snaking up to nestle in Sirius's hair.

Arm once more around James's back, Sirius edges them away from the wreckage of the lamps and toward the couch, without breaking the kiss, though they stumble a little. A moment later he drags his lips away, and mumbles against the side of James's neck, "You taste like beer."

"I have been drinking beer," James explains, pushing Sirius down to sit on the couch, before banging his knee on the coffee table as he moves to straddle the other man's lap.

Relaxing against the back cushions, Sirius winces in sympathy at the noise, and peers up through his lashes at James's face. "Really? I never would have guess. Come back and let me see what else you've been consuming."

James doesn't even seem to have noticed his knee colliding with the furniture, as he settles on the sofa, one leg on each side of both Sirius's. "I had crisps," he informs him.

"I'm not sure I believe you," says Sirius, mock skeptically. His eyes are twinkling. "I think you should try and prove it to me."

Grinning, James leans down and plants a rather wet and enthusiastic kiss on Sirius's lips, his hand resuming its earlier activities in his hair. Sirius settles his hands on James's hips, tilting his head back so that the other man's lips slant across his in the precise way he prefers.

Breaking the kiss a minute or so later, James mumbles, "See?"

"Mm." Eyes half closed, Sirius licks his lips suggestively. "Yes, definitely crisps."

"Vinegar ones."

Sirius is smirking now. "Mmhm…"

James is observing him again, with rather dazed eyes. "No, really, you're _fucking gorgeous_."

Sirius lets his head roll back against the couch, though his half-open grey eyes are still fixed, sparkling, on James. "Like crisps?"

"Crisps are not gorgeous," James informs him. "Yummy, maybe. You're yummy."

"So I am like crisps, then," counters Sirius, voice rich with laugher.

"I like you much better than crisps," James states, leaning down to place an open-mouthed kiss on Sirius's neck. 

"Aaah." Sirius tilts his head away, exposing more of his neck for that warm, drunken mouth. "But you were out eating crisps instead of here eating me, weren't you?"

James laughs against his neck. "Fuck, Si."

"Yes, please." Sirius is laughing too.

Leaning back to look at him, James gives him a very toothy grin. "Yeah?"

"I said so, didn't I?" Sirius says, unwisely attempting a lofty expression while sprawled on a couch underneath a smashed Chaser. He then ruins it even further by licking his lips again. "Give us another kiss."

Instead of doing as asked, James asks him, "Have I ever told you how really, really, really fucking happy I am you talked me into being a pouf with you?"

Sirius's face goes blank in surprise, and he stares up at James blinkingly. "Er… not… that I can recall, no."

"Well, I am," James states, nodding. "Because you're gorgeous and you kiss better than all the girls."

"Yes, I believe it was the kissing more than the talking that convinced you," Sirius mutters dryly, still looking rather startled.

"Maybe," James replies, giving him a quick kiss before sliding off his lap and settling against an armrest. "Do you mind?" he asks, stretching his arms out in invitation.

"Mind what? You all the way over there?" retorts Sirius, crossing his own arms. "Yes."

"No, the kissing thing."

Both Sirius's brows arch teasingly. "That you had to be 'talked into being a pouf with me' at all, you mean?"

"Kissed into it, rather," James corrects him. "Bloody hell, Si, come here."

"Hardly the point." With a sigh that only pretends to be resigned — and does it badly, at that — Sirius crawls the short distance and leans, sideways, against James's chest. He leans in to kiss the side of the other man's jaw, just because he can.

"Do you mind?" James asks again.

"Well, I might prefer it if you didn't talk about it like you had to be convinced, but no, not really, I don't."

"Convinced, lured, hook line and sinker?" James suggests, rather incoherently. One of his hands has drifted to rest on Sirius's buttock. "You have a much better arse than all the girls too, you know."

"Good thing, too," is Sirius's mumble, still against James's skin. "Were you? Hook line and sinker, I mean."

"Can't you tell?"

"I can't tell much of anything except that I want you, with you rambling drunkenly about my impressive attractiveness," teases Sirius, nipping playfully at James's neck.

James's response is to place his other hand on Sirius's arse as well, thrusting his hips upward. "You know what else?"

"Mm," tracing his tongue along the line of James's jaw to the lobe of his ear, "what else?"

"You give much better head than all the girls, too."

A choking laugh escapes Sirius, smothered quickly in James's hair. "Why, thank you! I'm glad you think so."

James grins, obviously pleased with his confession.

"So," begins Sirius, returning to his previous tortures of James's ear. "What you're saying is that you like me because I'm cuter and give better head than all the girls?"

"Don't forget the arse bit."

"My fabulous arse is pleased to be remembered," Sirius assures him.

"Good," James states, giving the arse in question a squeeze.

Sirius grins, the motion obvious against James's neck. "Is there any other reason you're glad I kissed you into being a pouf with me, one that you haven't mentioned or I might be forgetting?"

"You put out a lot more than any girl I've ever met, too." There is a pause. "And you're my best mate and I just like you more than all those birds, anyway."

"Good." Sirius leans back a little, so that he can give James a proper, openmouthed, tongue-tangling kiss. "Me, too."

"You too, what?" James mumbles against his lips, spreading his legs rather wantonly.

Sirius settles himself possessively into the offered space against James's thighs, bracing his arms on the armrest at James's back. "Me, too, I like you way more than all those birds."

"And my arse?"

"I adore your arse."

The smile James gives him is positively dazzling. "Good."

Sirius really hasn't got any choice at this point but to kiss James again. His hands still on Sirius's buttocks, James arches up against him once more, their hips aligning this time. Sirius groans and grinds his hips down, forcing James's back to the couch. He draws James's lower lip between his teeth and bites it, as one of James's hands slip underneath the back of Sirius's shirt, bunching it up as it goes.

Abruptly, Sirius disengages his mouth and pushes himself backwards, hips bearing even more firmly down on James's, on the pretense of looking at James's face. "Was that all, by the way?"

"Wha?"

"All you had to say on the subject of my good looks, of course." Sirius is grinning brilliantly, teasingly.

James stares at his mouth. "Fucking gorgeous."

"I heard that one already," but he receives a quick, hard kiss for it, anyway. "Have you any others?"

"Umm…" James pauses to remove his glasses, throwing them onto the floor. "Take off your shirt and I'll see what I can come up with?"

Sirius hastily strips off the garment, while he's at it undoing the button of his jeans for good measure. "There," he announces, shifting to his knees so that he can spread his arms out. "Have I inspired anything yet?"

James squints at him. "Can't really see anything from here…"

Sirius sighs and pretends to be annoyed, mumbling about James's lack of foresight in throwing away his glasses. But he leans forward again, anyway.

Bringing both his hands around to splay on Sirius's chest, James grins and nods. "Very nice."

"From fucking gorgeous to very nice." Sirius sighs again, more gustily this time. "How lowering." James seems more interested in Sirius's nipples than his words. With his knee, Sirius nudges one of James's thighs. "Compliments, I say, I want compliments," he demands, just a little breathlessly.

"Come here and I'll compliment you plenty," James says, more than a little suggestively.

"Verbally?" asks Sirius, eyes narrowed.

"Whatever you want."

"Hmm…" Sirius appears to consider this, his body getting closer and closer to James's as he does so, until finally his naked chest is pressed against the other man's clothed one, and their mouths are a breath apart. "I think what I want is… you."

James's eyes flutter closed. "I'm all yours, then."

"I know."


	22. 13–19 February 1984

**Monday, 13 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is there any talent you don't have that you wish you did? /Jude** Dear Jude, I can't play any musical instrument, not even to save my life. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your favourite kind of jam? /RR** Dear RR, Strawberry. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you were a girl, what would your name be? /Kristina** Dear Kristina, If I'd been born a girl, my mother would probably have named me Walburga. Or Cassiopeia. Or I might have been named Sirius, anyway. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. Both of my parents are Muggleborn and very fascinated by all things magic, still. I, however, have recently met this fabulous Muggle man... and I want to give up my magical lifestyle and start a normal Muggle life with him. How do I break these news to my parents? /Wilful child** Dear Wilful, Just explain it to them the way you explained it to me. If they love you, they'll understand. And it is your life and your choice, not theirs — you can't live it to please _them_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I don't know what to do. I feel completely hopeless, useless, and pointless. There's no one in my life who actually needs me or benefits from having me around. I'm just a nuisance and an annoyance and a waste of space. Should I just throw myself in the lake and hope that the Giant Squid will eat me? /Alicia** Dear Alicia, Do no such thing, young lady. I'm sure everything you said about no-one needing you or benefiting from having you around is, at the very least, an exaggeration. You must have at least some friends? Parents? Siblings? I assure you that if anything were to happen to you, all of them would be devastated. Besides. The Squid doesn't actually eat people. Trust me. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How would I go about getting a job at the paper you work for? /Aspiring journalist** Dear Aspiring, Well, that depends. Are you any good? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think the book about your family is being written by a co-worker of yours, actually! A young and upcoming writer called Rita something. /Jerry** Dear Jerry, ... Rita something's last name wouldn't happen to begin with an S, would it? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's really the point of having to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts now that You-Know-Who is dead? /Fed up** Dear Fed, Preparing for the next Dark Lord, you idiot. What, you think no other wizards are ever going to think they know better than the rest of us and should take over, ever again, just because this Dark Lord is gone? Are you some kind of mental retard, or something? Use your brain, man. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you and James ever bicker or fight? And if so, about what? /Lida** Dear Lida, We fight a lot, actually. About stupid male things. We resolve it by wrestling, though, so it's all good. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do I go about asking this girl in my year out? We're not in the same House at school but we've spoken a bit before and I really like her, but I have no idea how to bring it up! Help! /Clueless, 14** Dear Clueless, Try blushing, looking adorable, and shyly saying, "I... I think you're... r-really pretty. I'd l-love it if you'd go to Hogsmeade with me/have lunch by the lake with me/study in the library with me." Or, if you're suaver than that, sling your arm around her shoulder, smile dashingly, and ask her why the two of you haven't hooked up yet, since she's so fabulous. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
14 February 1984  
7.14 pm**_

"Are you going to make me do the dishes?" enquires Sirius, using his napkin to remove from his face any sign of the fact he's just had double portions of every single thing James fixed for supper.

"Because it's so very strenuous, having a wand and all," James says with a grin, shaking his head slightly. "Several _seconds_..."

"… all down the drain," quips Sirius, drawing his wand. "Think of all the other things I could be doing with those seconds!"

"I think you'll survive," James says, laughing a little as he exits the kitchen.

Sirius pulls a face at James's back, but dutifully waves his wand to straighten the kitchen and set the dishes to floating toward the sink and cleaning themselves.

"Pull any muscles?" James calls from the living room.

"My right wrist will never be the same again," Sirius replies, putting his wand away and strolling from the kitchen. He grins wickedly. "I anticipate needing _lots_ of help with certain things from now on…"

"What, from my right wrist?"

"Mm, or whatever other body part you chose to employ."

"You might have more luck with my left."

Sirius slouches over to the couch. "Why must you be like that?"

James raises an eyebrow at him. "What, left-handed? Can't help it, I was born that way."

"No. _Difficult_ ," corrects Sirius sternly.

"I'm not difficult," James protests, moving his feet out of the way to clear a spot for Sirius on the couch. 

Sirius promptly flops into said cleared space. "Are too."

"Am not. I'm lovable."

"If by lovable you mean annoying…"

"I suggest you shut up if you want to enjoy any ministrations from either of my wrists tonight," James says, lightly kicking Sirius's thigh.

"Oh, like you'd ever deny me," scoffs Sirius, smirkingly. He waves his allegedly injured right wrist at the television. "May I?"

The roll of James's eyes rather jives with the snicker that escapes him. "Go ahead."

"Thanks," Sirius says, already flicking his wand. Then, seeing he'd had it on his beloved infomercial channel when he'd turned it off last time, and thus doesn't need to switch to it, he grins and puts his wand away again.

"Oh, joy."

"I love this—" Sirius begins to say, before all of the pink, red and white on the television screen registers with his brain. Then he cuts off, gaping a little bit, as the host of the infomercial appears and begins praising (obviously, for about the twentieth time) the handmade paper doilies with personalisable Valentine's messages.

"Well, that's gaudy," James remarks, sitting up a little straighter. 

"…fucking hell," Sirius mutters, apparently to himself.

"Hm?"

Sirius continues to gape, possibly a little stricken, at the television. "That's _today_!"

"National gaudy decorations day?" James says, frowning. "… oh."

"Yes, oh."

"… your point being?"

Sirius sends him a narrow, sideways look. James just looks at him.

"…I like how neither of us are saying anything here," Sirius declares after a moment.

"Like what?"

" _James_."

" _What?_ "

Sirius frowns. "Do we celebrate… er… today?"

"Er." James looks at the TV screen once more. "D'you think we should?"

"Well." Sirius visibly thinks about it. "I guess I've never really had much against it, so… _d'you_ think we should?"

James looks vaguely uncomfortable. "Don't you think it'd be… weird?"

Sirius stares at him. "Why?"

"Just… I don't know."

"You mean, because you don't want to feel like the girl," offers Sirius, somehow managing to keep a straight face while he says it.

"Oi, why would _I_ be the girl?" James argues, seemingly more on reflex than anything else. "It'd just — which one of us would buy the chocolate?"

"Er…" Sirius blinks.

"I mean, that's what the man's supposed to do," James continues. "Only I'm a man, and you're a man, and there's no woman, and who would buy the bleeding chocolate?"

Since the subject is chocolate, Sirius considers this question, well, seriously. Then he asks, "Well, couldn't we both? Get our own, I mean."

"Doesn't sound very romantic to me," James mutters. Then, seemingly realising what he's just said, he blushes bright red.

Unable to help himself, Sirius grins. "We'd share when we ate them, idiot," he murmurs, rather gently. "That — in addition to being the importance of chocolates to begin with — is the romantic part."

"Oh."

Sirius reaches over to poke his side gently. "So. Do we celebrate?"

"Rather late to go out and buy chocolates now, isn't it?" James asks, still rather flushed.

"It's not _that_ late," protests Sirius.

"But you just ate two helpings of sticky toffee pudding."

"… your point?"

"D'you really think what you need is more sugar?" James asks, shaking his head a bit. 

Sirius laughs. "Oh, c'mon, James, you should know by now that I don't have a sugar limit like you lesser mortals."

"Well, yeah, but I won't be able to sleep if you're tossing and turning all night," James replies, looking rather triumphant. At this, Sirius makes a disgruntled face, clearly recognising that James has a point. "Anyways," James says, poking Sirius a bit with his foot again, "isn't Valentine's Day a bit naff, really?"

"It celebrates chocolate, James."

"Sirius."

Sirius grins innocently. "What?"

"You already celebrate chocolate Wednesdays." James pauses for effect. "Every week."

"Well, then, this would be an excuse to make you celebrate _with_ me," retorts Sirius, unabashed to be called on his dedication to the sweet.

James's foot prods Sirius's thigh once more. "So I only get chocolate once a year?"

"Oh, please."

"No, I'm serious, here."

Sirius's grin makes an abrupt, taunting appearance. "You can't be, I am."

"… walked straight into that one, didn't I," James says, shaking his head in appearant self-disgust. " _Anyway_. What you're saying is that the only point of Valentine's Day is chocolate."

"Well, of course." Sirius sits up a bit straighter on his end of the couch, at looks intently at the television as he adds, "All the rest of it… I don't see much point, y'know?"

James nods, also regarding the television. "So how about you share your chocolate with me tomorrow, instead?"

"Only if you promise not to laugh at me this time."

"When did I ever laugh at you?"

"Last week," replies Sirius promptly. "You accused me of mooning."

James blinks. "When did I ever — oh." A grin spreads over his face. "For a second I thought you meant mooning as in showing off your arse."

Sirius looks around for something to throw at James.

"And since that's a daily occurance nowadays —"

Sirius shoots him a look that is trying extremely hard to be grumpy. "You're rather a prick, you know that?"

"Did I say it was a bad thing?" James asks, grinning very widely now.

"Oy," Sirius whines, slouching back down and resting his head against the back of the couch. "Tell me again why I can't have chocolate tonight?"

James shrugs. "Sure you can."

Sirius turns his head to look at James suspiciously. "You said I'd keep you up all night."

"Not if I sleep in my room," James says, then frowns a little. "If I can dig my bed out from underneath all that junk."

A scowl seems to come over Sirius's face, though he's obviously trying to hide it. "What?"

"I dumped a load of newspapers and crap on it."

"Then clearly you can't sleep in there."

James shrugs. "We have formation practise first thing tomorrow morning, I can't have you keeping me awake all night."

"Obviously." Sirius pauses a moment, and appears to struggle briefly with something, then mumbles, "So, no chocolate it is."

This statement brings about a rather smug look on James's face.

"Oh, sit on it."

Ignoring Sirius's final words, James says, rather softly, "Maybe you do have a sense of romance after all."

Going back to staring at the television, Sirius's cheeks turn slightly pink.

"Oi."

"What?" asks Sirius, without turning his head.

"What do you think you're doing, ignoring me in favour of infomercials? And on Valentine's Day, too."

"You're the reason I'm not having any chocolate tonight," grumbles Sirius. "I don't think you have any reason to complain."

"Maybe I'll make it up to you," James says, his foot once more connecting gently with the other man's leg.

"Oh, I was intending you to," Sirius assures him. He edges a little closer to James, not taking his eyes off the tv.

"I mean, there's still a third of that sticky toffee pudding left…"

Sirius deigns to turn his attention to his best friend instead of the television set. He raises one eyebrow.

"… and some ice cream?"

Sirius's other eyebrow joins the first. James just looks at him, a would-be-innocent look on his face.

"I have no idea what you're getting at," Sirius declares. Rather insincerely, actually.

"Just that I could go heat some up for you," James says, the grin slowly returning to his lips. "If you want."

Sirius's eyes drift down to James's lips. "No, no, that's fine. I'm not… hungry."

"Oh," says James, unconsciously licking his lips at Sirius's gaze. "Well. Maybe I'll just go to bed, then. Long day tomorrow and all."

Sirius is still staring, his gray eyes darkened slightly. "Mmhm…"

"Right," James says, nodding before standing up. "Well. Good night, then."

"I think I should come with you," declares Sirius, standing as well.

"What, to make sure I don't get lost?"

"To make sure you _do_ get lost," says Sirius, grinning, and finally turning his eyes up to meet James's again.

James laughs. "That sounds rather counterproductive."

"You've no sense of adventure anymore," Sirius admonishes, a heartbeat before he pounces, grabbing the back of James's head with one hand, his shirt with the other, and kissing him.

* * *

**Wednesday, 15 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I don't know anything about any books being written but there is a writer at the Prophet called Rita Skeeter. Don't you read your own newspaper? /Calvin** Dear Calvin, Actually, I was aware there was a junior reporter here named Rita Skeeter, but I was hoping someone would tell me it wasn't her. I've got a very unpleasant feeling in my gut now... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever seen a dead body? /Morbid curiosity** Dear Morbid, Actually, I've created a few dead bodies. So the answer to your question is obviously yes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Did you have a nice Valentine's Day? What did you get up to? /Sarah** Dear Sarah, I had an excellent Valentine's Day and I got up quite a lot, thank you for asking. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My son married this bint who is completely unworthy of him. I've managed to avoid her since the wedding three years ago, but now she's pregnant. I don't want anything to do with her, but I do want to see my grandchild. What should I do? /Grandmother-to-be** Dear Future Grandmother, You might try getting over yourself. You should probably consider the fact that, if you've managed to avoid her for three years (and I think it says something that their marriage has lasted this long), then it's probably not due entirely to your wishes; be open to the possibility that she thinks you're a bint, as well. Possibly an overprotective one with apron-string issues. It's admirable that you want to be around for your grandchild, but first you should really try accepting that that will require being around that child's mother — also known as your son's wife. Just, you know, something to think about. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it possible, do you reckon, for a man and a woman to be just friends, without any sexual overtones? /Kian** Dear Kian, It's definitely possible! Consider my second-best friend, Lily Evans. We've never had the least sexual overtones to our relationship. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you were stuck on a desert island with just one other person, who would you choose and why? /Hallie** Dear Hallie, I would choose James, because he is by turns my best friend, my brother, and my better half. I don't think I would enjoy being alive if he were not around. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you got any hints on how to sneak down to Hogsmeade? /Cabin fevered** Dear Fevered, Do you really think I'd share that sort of thing in a national publication? Try sending me your home owling address, and we'll see if I can help you... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it all right for a Gryffindor to go out with a Slytherin? This boy asked me and he seems all right but I'm doubtful. /Lioness** Dear Lioness, I think it's quite all right. Not all Slytherins are as bad as they seem — though, in my experience, most are. Just be prepared to be disappointed, if he turns out to not be as nice as he seems. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever done karaoke? If so, what did you sing? Did you enjoy it? /Singing Bee** Dear Bee, I've done it once or twice in Muggle clubs. I like to sing classic rock — emphasis on _like_ and _classic_ — but I'm afraid I'm not very good unless I've had at least three shots of whiskey. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who wins these wrestling matches at your house, you or James Potter? /Curious Kate** Dear Kate, Sometimes I win, sometimes he wins, and sometimes with both win. Usually, I let him win, though; he sulks otherwise. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 17 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it normal for a heterosexual male to tell his equally heterosexual male friend that he loves him? /Pondering PS: Whilst sober!** Dear Pondering, I think it's perfectly normal, providing heterosexual male #1 actually does love heterosexual male #2. (That sort of thing _does_ happen, you know; it's perfectly normal to love your friends.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Lily's your second-best friend now, is she? Thanks a lot mate, really feeling the love here. Woundedly yours, R.J.L.** Dear Remus, Well, Lils smells better than you do. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you smoke? /Alice** Dear Alice, I used to. Then I got better. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever broken any bones? If so, how did it happen? /Eric** Dear Eric, Well, I broke my arm once when I was fighting James. And during the War, I broke just about all the bones in my left foot and ankle, while in what the Muggles would call a "fire fight" with a bunch of DEs. And when I was 8, I broke both my arms in one night... but then, I had help with that. There was an... incident... at the bottom of the well... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm 18 years old and recently started my first job, as a secretary. I love my job but there's something that's bothering me: every time I walk past my boss, he slaps my bottom! The other women in my office tell me it's just how he is and that I shouldn't take it personally, but it's really bothering me. What should I do? /Secretary** Dear Secretary, Try complaining to HIS boss? Because that's really inappropriate behaviour, especially if he does it to more people than just you. If he doesn't have a boss, well, try putting an Imperturbable Charm on your bum. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, HELP HELP HELP!! This girl I've been seeing sort of casually just told me she's pregnant! And that it's mine! I don't want a serious relationship with her -- and I DEFINITELY don't want a baby! I'm only 22 years old! What should I do? /K.B.** Dear K.B., Well you should have thought of that before, shouldn't you? But here's an idea, genius: Why don't you just use a Time-Turner to go back in time and tell your earlier self to keep your trousers zipped, yeah? Failing that, you could always demand a Verum of Paternus Charm. Though I really think it would serve you right if it _is_ yours. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do I convince my parents that I really need a new racing broom? /Elias** Dear Elias, Point out that all your friends have them. (Even if it's not true.) Or crash the old one, and blame it on a defect in the broom — so that, obviously, you need a new top-of-the-line broom on which all the latest safety charms come pre-cast. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think I'm in love with my sister's boyfriend! What should I do?! /Sister** Dear Sister, I recommend counselling. Or a convent. There's really nothing else you can do, without alienating one, or both, of the other parties involved. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am really BAD at keeping secrets. Whenever someone tells me something in confidence I always end up blabbing even though I don't mean to. It's starting to really upset my friends. What should I do? /Blabbermouth** Dear Mouthy, Well, if you don't think you can live the rest of your life with tape over your mouth, you might try warning all of your friends (and frequently remind them, should they forget) that you're not to be trusted with anything they wouldn't tell, say, the town crier. Beyond that, I can't really help you. I've never in my life had anything resembling that problem, nor have any of my friends. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, On a scale from 1 to 10, 10 being the highest, how good-looking do you think you are? /Sebastian** Dear Sebastian, Well, in the mornings, I'm always sure I'm a 10. By lunch time my ego has deflated enough for me to realise I'm only an 8. But I'm always a 10 again by bedtime! Sirius  
---


	23. 20–26 February 1984

**Monday, 20 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My father wants to take me hunting. I don't want to go. Not only would I have to wake up at 4am, but I'd have to watch him shoot things. Like little baby deers! I can't seem to convince him that getting lots of sleep and then memorising the complete works of Shakespeare would be a more beneficial and entertaining endeavor. What do I do?? /T** Dear Tea, Um, I really don't know. You could try stunning him, or talking about how sad you'd be if you had to watch him kill Bambi... but then again, I'm not sure how entirely well either option would work. Hm. I'm not sure what would help you. Maybe if you just flat out refused to kill small, fluffy, cute things, like little girls and baby animals, he'd understand? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think my little brother is defective. He's been home for almost a week, and all he does is squirm and grunt. My parents don't seem to understand that there's a serious problem here. How can I make them realise? /Timmy, 9** Dear Timmy, Uh, I hate to rain on your parade, but newborns seldom do more than that, at least, not during the first week of their lives. Your little brother is not, in fact, defective; he's just average. You acted like that yourself, when you were younger. Just try to be more understanding, eh? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Lavender blue dilly dilly, silly? /Red** Dear Red, Uh, yes? Very silly? I am completely and totally confused — which does not happen often, so be proud of yourself. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, That's only because I actually bathe every day, and you know it. Don't be mean to my boyfriend. /L.E.** Dearest Lils, You wouldn't be mad at me just because our own personal levels of hygiene happen to exceed those of your boyfriend, would you? It would be most unfair — and I would refuse to talk about bathing habits, in any event, knowing both of yours' intimately, as it were. Please don't make me feel guilty, darling... (Though, you have to know that you smell better, whatever the reason. You're a _girl_.) Your darling, Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just got a bonus at work, and I need to spend it before my mistress finds out about it… and tells my wife. Any suggestions? /W. Gates** Dear Gates, Wow. Uh, how about you buy a boat, without telling either of those highly demanding women in your life (are you insane? Do they really actually _talk_ to each other and _compare notes_?!), and take an uncharted cruise to the Caribbean. A long one. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have recently discovered that my husband really, really needs to be castrated. I'm looking for a creative way to accomplish this. What are your thoughts? /Mrs Jane Smith** Dear Mrs Smith, I regret to say that my creativity has never, ever, stretched in this direction, so I'm not sure how to help youl Have you consider paper-cuts? That seems significantly painful and oddly vindictive, to me, but then, I may be abnormal. How about removing his balls with a table knife? They're usually dull enough that it should take you several years... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I was climbing a wall and I feel down. There was a moat at the bottom so I didn't get hurt, but it was frustrating. Do you have any experience breaching fortress defense systems? My lack of progress is really getting to me. /Invader** Dear Invader, Um, blow them up... ? (Which time-period are you living in? Because that doesn't really seem like a modern-day question...) Maybe just kill all the guards? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, After thinking about it very hard for a long time — two whole months! — I've decided that I want to have babies, before I'm too old. I think I would make an excellent mother. Unfortunately, I know that my parents will murder me if I don't get married first, and I can't decide which of my boyfriends I should make propose to me. Besides, I don't know which one would make a better father. On the one hand there's the older man, we'll call him Franklin, and he's very... fatherly and would probably give lots of good advice, but the whole, you know, making babies process, is just not all that hot with him. Then there's Herman, who's dependable and has a "sufficient income" (as he would say), but he's incredibly dull, really, and I have trouble holding real conversations with him. There's also Alfie, who's very sexy and who I would have an absolute ball making babies with and who also has this totally cute accent (and brother!), or George, who is middle-aged and likes to talk about babies and how he knows what's best for them but who seems to get weird and twitchy whenever he's actually around a child, or finally, there's David, who isn't nearly as rich as the others and has an even bigger weakness for women who are not me but who is most likely to be interested in HAVING children with me because he thinks they're "diverting". Could you... help? /Tiffany** Dear Tiffany, I'm sorry, but I don't want to have children at the moment, either. And if you meant something other than that, then, well, you're still out of luck, because I have no other ideas. Maybe you should find someone else entirely? Or maybe you should just forgo the idea of parenthood altogether? — Forgive me, but you don't exactly sound the model for it, I'm sorry. (Oh, and just for the record? I like the sound of Alfie...) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Did you watch the Muggle Olympics?! I thought the ice dancing a riot, personally. Rachel** Dear Rachel, Yes, I did, though I didn't pay that much attention to the ice dancing, I'm sorry. I was more interested in the figure-skating, and _especially_ the skiing contests. Go, British Muggles! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you prefer a chaise, or a settee? Antoine and Victoire** Dear A &V, I actually prefer chaises, because in general I find them more inviting and comfortable. But that could just be me. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 22 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I didn't know who else to ask so I'm writing to you. My boyfriend only wants to have sex with me when I'm wearing a specific kind of footwear. Now if it were some sexy heels or something I'd be able to understand it, but it's not -- he wants me to wear my wellies! What is up with that? They're the least sexy kind of footwear imagineable! /Rubber feet** Dear Rubber feet, Okay, that's a little strange, I'll admit. There are worse fetishes he could have; imagine if he only wanted to have sex with you when you were in a snow suit, or something. Anyway, he's probably got some kind of latent childhood obsession going on there, and it doesn't sound very healthy, so you might want to try weaning him from the wellies, if you can. Like, refuse to wear more than one, next time. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do girls always smell better than boys, then? /Mr P (the other one)** Dear Mr the other P, Not at all! There are certain boys who smell even better than girls, actually. Like me! Sirius PS: You may have thought you were being sneaky, mate, but I know who you are. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you wear shoes indoors, or have you got some sort of slippers or something? /Tina** Dear Tina, I like to go barefoot inside, actually. I do own slippers (house shoes, really), but they're mostly just for my dog to chew on, so that James's shoes are safe. James yells at my dog when he chews on his slippers. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What house were you in at Hogwarts? My brother went to school with a cousin of yours and he tells me all Blacks are Slytherins but it doesn't sound like it from the way you talk about them. /Hufflepuff Girl** Dear Puff-girl, I was in Gryffindor, actually. All other Blacks were in Slytherin, though; about nine zillion generations of them. I'm considered an anomaly of the grossest kind. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever wanted to be an Animagus? What do you think you would be? /Cat lover** Dear Cat, Yes, I wanted to be an Animagus, once. That was a very long time ago, though. I can't remember what I thought I'd be. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend has only had one serious relationship before me, and no flings or one-night stands. My conquests, however, are a little bit more numerous. (As in, I can't count them on my fingers and toes.) Should I tell him this if he asks me, or should I sweeten the truth for him a bit? /Floozy?** Dear Floozy, While I can understand your reluctance to tell him, I strongly recommend that you in no way "sweeten the truth" for him. If you do that, chances are it will come back to bite you (these kinds of "creative honesty" usually do)... and besides, you shouldn't even be considering lying to him. Now, I'm not saying you should write him a nice handy list, colour-coded and thrice-indexed, or necessarily volunteer things he doesn't ask for, or anything, but just don't... lie. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Which Pureblood families are you related to? /Giselle Yaxley** Dear Ms Yaxley, All of them, sadly. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently found out that my dad isn't really my dad at all! My real dad left my mum before I was born and she met my "dad" when she was pregnant with me. I've always thought he was my real father and now I feel so lost! And I can't help but be jealous of my two younger brothers because they're his real children. What should I do?! /Bastard** Dear Bastard, While I feel sorry for the shock you must be experiencing, and how this can (quite understandably) affect your outlook on yourself, your family, and your whole life, I just have to ask — has this man ever, in any way, treated you as if you were not his biological child? Because it sounds to me as if he is your real dad, he just wasn't lucky enough to have actually sired you. I suggest that you come to terms with your good fortune, and be thankful that you've been granted two caring parents who would love you enough to keep the truth from you for this long, probably knowing how much it would upset you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend is so pushy! She's always telling me what to do and what to say and what to wear. And I can't afford to buy new robes every week just because she says lavender is out and lilac is in and she won't sit with me at lunch if I wear lavender! What should I do? /T.B.** Dear T.B., Stop lunching with her until she gets over herself, I would say. If she's truly your friend, and truly wants to spend time with you, she'll realise that the colour of your robes — or what you order for lunch, or how you talk, or anything else that she may view disfavourably — is part of who you are, and that instead of trying to change you, she should just enjoy you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. I'm 18 years old and I fancy an older woman at work. We're not talking a year or two older; she's 35! Do you think anything could ever come of it? She's single and very youthful but I still feel as though there's something wrong with me. Should I do anything about it? /Toyboy** Dear Toyboy, First of all, I just have to say that while I would never end up in your situation, I don't necessarily think there's anything wrong with you. In fact, in some places, it's considered quite natural to prefer more mature women — and certainly, there are women in their early-middle age who need younger men, since the men their age can't keep up with them. So don't be ashamed of yourself, or anything like that! I think, if you really fancy this woman, and you think she might fancy you as well, you should definitely go for it, because while the age difference may be unusual, it's not unheard of, and in my opinion, has tons of potential. Good luck with your sugar momma, mate! Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 24 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are Quidditch players really muscley? /Doubtful** Dear Doubtful, Oh, yes, indeed they are. At least, mine is. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband's birthday is coming up and I want to wear something nice but not slutty for him. What do you suggest? /Anita** Dear Anita, Well, if you're not going out, and you don't have lots of kids underfoot, I suggest you wear... nothing. Otherwise, if you've got the money, Gladrags has a very nice line of tastefully elegant evening robes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How come we've never seen any pictures of you with your dog? /Canine lover** Dear Canine lover, Why, that's easy — James refuses to take pictures of us together, and it's rather awkward for me to take such a picture. A huge shame, I think, as my dog is almost as handsome as i am! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently had a son about four months ago. I'm very happy about this. However, my wife keeps calling him "Nicky" (his name is Copernicus) and I just don't think it's a very masculine name! How can I make her stop? /Frustrated** Dear Trate, Ah. Personally, I think "Nicky" sounds a lot more masculine (and less pretentious) than the rather... ostentatious... Copernicus. On the other hand, Nicky is just shorter and obviously quicker to say. Lots of people have nicknames — "Si", just for example — but if you really, really cannot reconcile yourself to the name Nicky, maybe you should try and compromise with Nic? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've recently decided to start a garden. My four children have been very helpful; it's amazing how much help under-tens can be! Now, I can't decide whether I want to plant Mandrakes or Devil's Snare at the southwest corner. What do you think? Oh, and do you know of any way to keep cats, dogs and chickens out of gardens? Thanks in advance! /Green fingers** Dear Green Fingers, ... You have four kids and you haven't figured out that Mandrakes and Devil's Snare might be a bad idea? Do you actually like your children? I would advise you don't plant either, and stick to something safe and kid-friendly, like strawberries... or you could get rid of the garden and plant a pond, with gillyweed! I bet your kids would love that. As for cats, dogs, and chickens... have you tried a fence? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do they get the little man to stay quiet inside the jack-in-the-box box? /Elsa, age 8** Dear Elsa, They pay him a very, very great deal of money. They set him up for life, in fact! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My mate claims that crisps are made from the leaves of potato plants. Please tell him he's wrong and that everyone who's not an idiot knows that they're made from special flat potatoes! I'm sick of his ignorance. /The clever mate** Dear "Clever", Wow, that's... quite enlightening. I don't believe either of those possibilities has ever occurred to me. That said, I'm very sorry to inform you that you are both wrong, as I happen to know for incontrovertible fact that crisps are made from ordinary potatoes that have been sliced. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you and James ever been on any double dates? /Christie** Dear Christie, We have, as a matter of fact, been on several double dates... I think they may be the most disastrous dates in our entire combined dating history. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you enjoy brain-teasers? /Smartarse** Dear Smartarse, I love brain-teasers! Especially giving them to other people. Why, do you have one for me? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Would you like an advance reader's copy of my new book entitled _The Rise and Fall of a Dynasty: The Black Family_? I'd be ever so pleased if you'd read it and tell me what you think of it. Perhaps we could discuss it over tea one of these days? Yours truly, Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet** Dear Rita, Oh... my... God. I'm gonna have to get back to you on that one. Sirius   
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
24 February 1984  
5.16 pm**_

By some miracle, Sirius manages to open his front door without it banging against the wall, as it usually does. This would be more of an accomplishment in quietude, of course, if he did not — the moment he Apparated to the front step — start yelling, "Honeyyyyyyy, I'm hooooooooooome!"

He enters, closing the door in his wake using the elbow of the arm not holding the Evening Prophet against his side, and begins toeing his feet out of the shiny shoes he'd worn into work.

"I'm upstairs!" comes James's reply, a little muffled.

"Where?" Sirius yells back, wriggling out of his coat and disposing of it by tossing it, and the muffler he's unwound, vaguely in the direction of the front close. He manages, somehow, to complete this action without dropping the paper. "And why?"

James appears on the stairs, rubbing his hair with a towel, clad in jeans and a t-shirt featuring the picture of a large golden bird. 

"Mmm," says Sirius, when he spots him. Grinning, he heads for the stairs. "All clean and yummy already, are you?"

"If you wanna put it that way," James says, raising one eyebrow and grinning at him.

"Well, you certainly _look_ yummy." Stopping on the step below James, Sirius leans up to kiss him. Chuckling, James meets him halfway, the hand not holding the towel to his head coming up to rest in Sirius's hair. After a moment, Sirius shoves gently against his chest with the folded up newspaper, and pulling his head back, remarks happily, "Oh, lovely, your lips are all warm and freshly-showered-y. How wet's your hair?"

"Why?" Rather than waiting for a reply, James bends down a little more, rubbing the top of his head against Sirius's face. 

Grinning, a touch stupidly really, Sirius responds by turning his own head to bury his face in the damp hair, and indistinctly muttering, "No reason. Just like it that way, 's all."

Chuckling again, James straightens up, shoving a bit at the other man. "How was your day, then?"

"Practically perfect, now," declares Sirius, still with that grin on his face. He shoves at James's chest with the paper again.

"I'll read it if you let me get downstairs."

"What, blocking your way, am I?" Sirius's voice is teasing.

"Just a bit, aye," James replies, leaning down once more to brush a quick kiss across his lips. "Move."

"Fine," says Sirius, moving back down the steps. Well, back down _one_ of them, at least.

"You gonna make me jump over you?"

"Oh, sorry, you said down _stairs_ , my apologies." Smiling innocently, Sirius backs down one more step. "There. Two. That's plural, yes?"

James raises his eyebrows. "You do realise that my foot is in a very good position for kicking you where it hurts."

"You wouldn't," Sirius counters confidently.

"Probably not."

It is Sirius's turn to raise his eyebrows. " _Probably_?"

"… okay, definitely not," James finally agrees. "Really, are we gonna spend all weekend on the stairs?"

"What? The stairs could be interesting."

"Not very good for reading."

"Oh. Right." Sirius, apparently against his will, looks slightly sheepish. "Forgot." He turns and saunters downstairs and into the living room.

James somehow manages to get to the living room before him, dropping carelessly into an armchair.

"You walk too fast," grumbles Sirius, without heat, and sprawls himself down the couch.

"I'm young and limber," James replies, flicking through the paper until he finds Sirius's column.

Sirius, busy arranging his arms behind his head, rolls his eyes. "What, and I'm not?"

James does not reply. This does not seem to bother Sirius, who pretends to occupy himself staring down at his stockinged feet and wiggling his toes. A rather smug grin begins to spread across James's face, which Sirius notices only because he can't seem to stop himself glancing at the other man about every .02 seconds. He lifts one eyebrow slightly, but doesn't say anything, though he does keep his eyes on James from then on.

By the time James reaches the end of Sirius's column, his smile is very big and very, very smug indeed.

Eyebrow now considerably higher, Sirius curiously asks, "Oi, what're you so pleased about, then?"

"Oh, nothing," James grins, shaking his head. "Just nice to see you're finally admitting the truth."

"Er."

Making a rather big show of it, James puts the paper on the coffee table, stretches his arms above his head, and as they come down, grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it off in one fluid motion. Sirius, though he'd opened his mouth to comment on James's odd behaviour, says nothing. In fact, he seems to have gotten temporarily distracted, and is appreciatively taking advantage of the scenery.

James's smirk, if possible, grows even more smug.

"… Ah," mutters Sirius, without moving his eyes again. "I'd forgot. I put that one in today, didn't I?"

"Indeed," James says, sounding very pleased with himself. " _Your_ Quidditch player, now, am I?"

Sirius just grins. "What, gonna tell me you're not?" He has progressed from staring at James's chest, to staring at his arms.

"Wouldn't dream of it." James follows his gaze. "What're you looking at?"

"My muscley Quidditch player."

James's grin morphs from smug to rather soppy for a second. "You approve?"

"Shut up, I'm busy," retorts Sirius, grinning again, and letting his eyes stray toward James's stomach. "There's this really fit man in the room and I'm admiring his hotness."

"Oi."

"Hm?"

"Stop staring at me like I'm a hunk of meat." James pretends to look hurt and pouty. "I have a brain, you know."

"I doubt your brain looks this sexy, though," replies Sirius, making no move to desist.

James grins. And flexes his pecs. Sirius's gaze sharpens, his eyes darkening slightly. "Y'know, James..."

"What?"

"You're a tease."

"Me?" James blinks, in a would-be-innocent way that is rather spoiled by the way one of his hands comes up to rest at the back of his head, allowing Sirius a very nice view of his now flexed bicep.

Sirius's gray eyes get even darker. "Mmhm. Yes, you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't be a showoff," says Sirius, though judging from the expression on his face, he doesn't mean it.

"I'm sorry," James says, in a not-at-all-apologetic tone of voice. Sirius, considering this statement to not require a response, simply continues to ogle. "Hand me my shirt, then."

"Get it yourself."

"Can't be arsed."

"How unfortunate…" The look on Sirius's face at this point can best be described as a leer. 

"Very, isn't it," James agrees. "I'm cold." 

"I can tell."

"You should do something about it," James says, only blushing a very little. "Don't want me to get frostbite, do you?"

"But what would I do?" enquires Sirius innocently, without moving. "We've already established that I don't want to get your shirt…"

"Hm." James pretends to think about this very hard. "You could light a fire?"

Sirius shakes his head. "Well, that would be rather dangerous, wouldn't it? You might end up singed."

James raises his eyebrow a little at this logic, as he's well over six feet away from the fireplace. "Pass me a blanket, then?"

Sirius considers the relative pros and cons of this suggested action. Then, nodding, he gets to his feet. "All right," he says, reaching over for the blanket folded across the back of the couch. He seems to be ignoring the fact that he could simply levitate it over to James.

"What, you can get up to get that but not my shirt?"

"Your shirt was farther away," declares Sirius, ambling to stand just in front of James's chair, their legs touching, and holding the blanket out toward him. James looks doubtful. "Besides," adds Sirius, with a grin, "I had time to consider the benefits of being… closer to you."

"Did you, now." James's grin is back. "Such as…?"

"Well, obviously, I can see better." Propping the arm not holding the blanket on one of the armrests, Sirius leans down a little.

"I feel as though I should charge you for this."

"If you did, I'd be broke in record time," replies Sirius, dropping the blanket in James's lap, so that he can lean his other arm on the opposite armrest. His gaze is slowly working its way up the other man's chest.

"Good thing for you I'm a very giving kind of person." James looks up at him. "Seriously, mate, I feel a bit violated here."

Sirius barks a laugh. "More than usual, you mean?"

"Indeed."

"How odd, since I'm not even _touching_ you this time…"

James grins at him. "Since when do I feel violated when you touch me?"

Sirius just laughs again. "Seriously, mate, my eyes aren't doing anything my hands haven't."

"No, but you look all… lecherous."

"What a rude thing to say!"

"I only speak the truth." James's hands come up to rest on Sirius's hips.

"I'm not _lecherous_ ," mutters Sirius. He bends further, nuzzling his face against James's neck.

"Yeah?" James breathes, shifting to give Sirius better access. "What are you, then?"

"I'm… _appreciative_."

"Oh, is that what they call it these days."

"What else would you call it?" Sirius's nuzzling has edged downward some, so that he is now brushing his lips over James's collarbone. "Apart from lecherous, of course."

"Um…"

"I am not 'um', Jim."

"Don't call me that," James complains, yanking at Sirius's belt loops.

"You said I was lecherous," defends Sirius, responding to James's actions by pushing his hips closer to the chair, deeper between the V of James's legs.

"That's because you —"

The rest of James's sentence is drowned out by a voice echoing around the living room, proclaiming "Incoming message!" at a rather alarming volume. Sirius starts, then promptly jerks away from the other man, his expression slightly alarmed. James just blinks.

Sirius, still backing away, runs into the coffee table, sitting roughly down on it at exactly the moment their fireplace flames green, Remus's head appearing.

"Hullo," he says, perhaps a little mournfully, staring sadly out at them. "Are you two busy at all? Lily's told me that I should — well, what what's wrong with you, then? You look like someone came through and smacked you both upside the head with a purple hippogriff."

"We, er," James says, clearing his throat, "we need to adjust the sound level on the Floo warner."

"I don't think I have any eardrums left," mutters Sirius, possibly to himself. He still looks a little shell-shocked, but he stands back up, rubbing his backside absently. "And that stupid table bruised my arse!"

Remus's floating head rolls its eyes. "Normal people don't have those things, you know," he says, referring to their warning system. "I don't see why you… why aren't you dressed, James?"

"Hm?"

"Nothing, only I thought being indecent was Sirius's thing, not yours," says Remus, his head moving from side to side as if he's shaking it. He clears his throat. "Anyway, you aren't busy, are you?"

"No," James says quickly. "We were just… reading."

"Reading," repeats Sirius, giving James an indecipherable look. "Yes, we were… reading."

If Remus sees anything odd in this, he apparently chooses to ignore it. "Good, you didn't look busy." He seems to glance over his shoulder. Looking back at them quickly, he sighs and asks, "Mind if I pop over, then?"

James looks over at Sirius. Sirius returns his look with a rather petulant one. He opens his mouth to answer, most likely in the negative, but he's cut off by Remus adding, "Because Lily says that if I'm not gone for the next three hours, she won't be responsible for her actions."

"Come on over," James says, with only a hint of a sigh. "I'll make some tea."

"Because _tea_ is _nice_ ," grumbles Sirius sullenly, as Remus gives them a relieved look, and his head disappears from the fireplace.

"Don't be a prat," James mutters, standing up.

"But I want _you_ , not _tea_ ," Sirius whines, in a low voice, giving James and his still bare chest a long, hot, yearning look.

"Later," James says, grinning at him as he retrieves his shirt and shrugs it on. A pop can be heard faintly, then someone knocks on their front door. "… and here I was thinking he was going to Floo in."

"Probably afraid our 'warning system' will shock our pants off, as well as your shirt," whispers Sirius, going to let their friend in. Over his shoulder, he adds, "Pity it won't…"

"You have no patience whatsoever, do you?"

"I waited years, I don't see why I have to wait longer," Sirius continues to grumble, though he manages to restrain the flow of irritation, once he's opened the door and Remus is walking in.

"Hi, Moony," James says, apparently ignoring Sirius's comment. "Little lady kick you out, did she?"

Remus sighs. Again. "Apparently, she's busy with something Very Important and I am Distracting."

"Why, what'd you do?" James calls over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen, presumably to make tea.

"I said hello," sighs Remus.

"Were you loud about it?" asks Sirius, rather ungraciously, shoving his hands in his pockets and moving to follow James.

Remus, keeping pace with him, shakes his head. "Not particularly, no. Not nearly as loud as I expect _you_ are when you get home…"

Sirius growls something unintelligible.

"To be fair," James says, head in the tea-and-various-things cupboard, "we've only had to repair the wall once this month."

Sirius's growl of complaint is louder this time, but the words are still indistinguishable. Remus sighs yet again, apparently oblivious.

"You want Earl Grey or Darjeeling, Moony?"

"Darjeeling, please," replies Remus, wandering over and taking a seat at their table.

Sirius moves over to lean against the cupboards next to James. "You know, I bet if you married her, she wouldn't chuck you out so often," he opines loudly.

"Giving advice for free now, Sirius?" James grins, shoving tea leaves into a pot. "And out of the office, too."

"If he's going to ruin my evening, I can ruin his," Sirius shoots back, under his breath. He grins at Remus, who is glaring at him.

"Oi."

"Yes, oi," agrees Remus, though he doesn't seem to have heard Sirius's last statement. "You know how I feel about _that_ , Sirius."

"Yes, Sirius," James nods, stirring the tea. "You know he's a wimp when it comes to the M word."

"Yeah, I also know how Lils feels about it." Taking a deep breath, Sirius blows it out roughly, then seems to slump a bit. "But nevermind. What's got her so busy she can't bear to be distracted?"

"Work?" James adds.

"Yes," says Remus. "And that's really all I know, so I can't satisfy your curiosity this time, Sirius."

Sirius shrugs and leans his head back against the cupboard. James pokes him in the ribs. "I need to get some teacups out of there. Move."

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Can't you say please?"

Over at the table, Remus rolls his eyes again.

"No."

"Nobody wants me to be happy," complains Sirius, pushing away from the cupboard with his shoulders, and slouching over to sit on the edge of the table. He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets, and looks pitiful.

Remus is regarding him with something like a cross between admiration and disdain. "He's definitely got even more theatrical than he was at school," he says to James.

"It's probably my fault," James says, shaking his head as he gets three teacups out of the cupboard. "I don't tell him off enough." Sirius's pout becomes even more dramatic. Handing Remus one teacup, James ruffles Sirius's hair before giving him one as well. "Cheer up, Padfoot."

Sirius bares his teeth, but takes the cup. He sulks into it.

"Do you just ignore him when he gets like this, then?" enquires Remus curiously, sipping his Darjeeling.

"Um." James pauses, glancing over at Sirius. "Not exactly."

This seems to surprise Remus, who looks up from his tea. "Then what do you do?"

"He whines back at me," Sirius says quickly, with a swift look at James.

"And you know I can whine," James adds, after only pausing for a moment. 

"Indeed." Remus returns his attention to his cup. "…must be the whiniest house in Britain, then."

"Should I kick him or do you want the honours?" James asks Sirius, sitting down on a chair just in front of him.

Remus looks a little sheepish, perhaps, but he's grinning slightly, too.

"I thought you disapproved of my violent urges toward him," Sirius replies to James, turning his head to peer consideringly at their friend.

"Well, there are limits."

Sirius turns back to James. By dint of still sitting on the table directly in front of James's chair, he has an excellent angle for shooting curious looks at him. "Limits which kicking him does not exceed?" he asks.

"Do you two remember that I'm still here?" Remus wonders, aloud.

Sirius ignores him. As does James. "As long as you don't kick too hard…"

"Hm." Sirius ponders this for a second. "Does it matter _where_ I kick him?"

"Hey!" protests Remus.

"Just remember that Evans might come after you if you break any… well." 

"True, and I wouldn't want to upset Lils, would I?" muses Sirius. He frees one hand from his jeans to rub at his jaw.

James turns to grin at Remus. 

Remus does not seem impressed.

"Hey, at least he's not sulking anymore?" James tries. 

Remus grudgingly agrees with this, but he doesn't seem to find Sirius sly smirk much of an improvement. James just shakes his head. 

"… Actually," says Sirius, after a moment, "he seems annoyed enough as it is."

"Now, now, boys," James says, grinning very widely by now, "just smile and make up, won't you?"

"I'd like to point out that I didn't start this," retorts Sirius, apparently fighting a grin of his own.

"Well, then, you be the one to finish it." James pauses. "Bloody hell, when did I turn into my mother?"

Sirius laughs.

"I have no idea," replies Remus solemnly. Then, deadpan, he adds, "Since you have, though, I suppose it's a good thing that Sirius feels the way he does about Mrs Potter."

"… just exactly what are you implying, here, Moony?"

Sirius's eyebrows have risen to his hairline. He twists his head to give Remus a mildly threatening look. "Yes, Moony, what _are_ you implying?"

Face still studiously blank, Remus shrugs, and looks down at his cup. "Oh, well, just, you know, it's not as if the rest of the world hasn't ever heard him propose to her, or anything…"

Opening his mouth, Sirius blinks, then glances between Remus and James. He shuts his mouth. James blinks, too. "Well." 

"I thought that was Lily's pipe dream," mutters Sirius.

Having had his teasing spoiled by this rather odd reaction, Remus looks up at the two other men, obviously slightly disappointed. And, yes, a bit confused. "What?"

"Nothing," James says, shaking his head. "You need any more tea?"

"No, seriously, what did I just say?" demands Remus, frowning. He narrows his eyes at Sirius, who has started smirking.

"Nothing," repeats James. "Really."

"What, you didn't mean to say that I ought to propose to James?" asks Sirius, without looking at James, and seeming on the verge of laughing again. Remus stares at him. His expression doesn't change, but his face turns a bit pink.

"Like he's one to suggest anything in that area," James mumbles, staring at the floor.

Remus's face turns even redder.

"Mmhm, on several levels," agrees Sirius. Clearly, he has decided that he is enjoying himself, for the moment. "Starting with his refusal to propose to Lils, and ending with the way he reacted when said not-fiancée told us we should shag."

"Indeed," James agrees, eyes still fixed on the floor. At this point, Remus looks a bit like a bright red fish. "… seriously, more tea?"

"Yes," Remus squeaks.

Apparently feeling an unusual urge to be nice, Sirius at least _attempts_ to smother his laughter. James glares at him, and he somehow manages to look sheepish.

Remus, still flushed, has gone back to staring at the table, since James has his cup.

"Sorry," Sirius mumbles.

After a few moments of awkward silence, James stands up with a loud "Well." 

"… Yes, well. Apparently I'm not funny anymore," says Sirius, in a further attempt to ease the oddness in the air. He sighs dramatically. "I guess I can't run away to the circus, after all."

"Unless it's a flea circus," James adds, bringing over the teapot and filling up Remus's mug.

Immediately, as if on some kind of cue, Sirius scowls at him. "I do not have fleas."

"Uh-huh."

"I _don't_ ," he insists.

Observing this — all-too familiar — argument, Remus finally relaxes.

"Need I remind you of that one time during our sixth year —"

"You _cannot_ count that!"

"Why the hell not?"

"It was _one_ flea, and I got it from Moony," avers Sirius staunchly.

"Hey!"

James, apparently, has heard this so many times he's not even listening anymore. "More tea, Padfoot?"

"Yes," says Sirius, rather ungraciously, holding out his cup.

Seemingly deciding a change of topic is needed, James turns to face Remus as he fills up Sirius's cup. "How's work?"

Remus visibly brightens. "Oh, it's fantastic, as always," he replies. "I got a new student recently, really quite bright, his parents just don't know how to properly encourage him to learn…"

Sirius makes a show of rolling his eyes. James smacks the back of his head.

Sirius grumbles something about abuse, but Remus pretends not to have noticed the entire exchange. Instead he asks, quite politely, "… and yours, James?"

"It's good," James nods. "Coach is not happy with the Beaters after the game on Tuesday. Yells at them a lot."

"Which is hardly surprising," remarks Sirius, with a small, half-disgusted shake of his head.

James fixes Remus with a pointed stare. "We've been discussing it a lot. Over breakfast." With a quick glance at Sirius, he then adds, "And dinner. Sirius's opinion is _professional_ , after all."

"Of course," says Remus, with a glance at Sirius, who doesn't seem to know whether to look amused or exasperated by James's comment.

"… remind me again how you got that job, Si?"

"Well, aside from the wonderful fact that I'm capable of being almost entirely objective, I happen to be quite good at it," Sirius states confidently. Then he flashes James a quite wicked grin. "But of course, you're still waiting for me to admit that I slept with someone for it."

"Did you?" asks Remus curiously. James chuckles. Sirius looks offended. "…what?" demands Remus defensively.

"I wonder _who_ you'd have to shag for that job," James says, looking pensive. "I mean, would it be the sports editor at the paper, or the head of the British Quidditch Association?"

"Perhaps both," suggests Remus.

"… aren't they both in their sixties?"

"Yes," Sirius grits out, now favouring them both with his highly insulted expression. "Not _at all_ my type."

"Oh, come now, Sirius, _one_ of them is female."

"Barely," James snickers.

"Gender has nothing to do with it," growls Sirius, straightening and moving away from the table. "Now, if you're both quite finished, ruining all the fun I keep attempting to have, I think I'll go upstairs for a bit and leave you two girls to your gossip."

"Hey," James says, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. Sirius stops immediately, giving James a peculiarly challenging look.

Noticing but not understanding it, Remus seems a little confused. "You're awfully touchy today, Sirius," he says. "Usually you can take a joke better."

"He's just a little tense," James replies, keeping his eyes on Sirius. "Did you read his column today?"

An odd expression flashing across his face, Remus shrugs quickly. "I might've, er, glanced at it, yeah. Why?"

Sirius still has that look levelled at James.

"Some journalist cow has written a book on his family," James says, finally moving his gaze away from Sirius. His hand, however, remains around his wrist. "Also, I am fit."

Sirius growls quietly — or perhaps he doesn't. Remus can't be sure, but he knows how much of a sore spot the Blacks are for his friend, so all he says is, "Ah." And then, sputtering slightly, as the last of James's words sink in, "Wait, _what_?"

"I am fit," James repeats, matter-of-factly. "In good shape. Toned. Muscley."

"Er, you know that 'muscley' is not—"

Sirius's eyes, still rather defiant, have started trailing down James's body, in rather the same manner they were earlier, before Remus arrived. "It is now."

James nods, and pulls a little at Sirius's arm, urging him to sit back down. "Anyway, Moony…"

Sirius moves a few small steps back toward the table.

"I didn't notice him talking about you," Remus is muttering, looking a little perplexed.

"He's always talking about me," James says, waving an impatient hand. "Now. Have you had _any_ luck whatsoever regarding Evans and that garden of yours?" Reaching the table, Sirius perches with his hips on the edge of it, in front of James, as he was before.

For the second time that evening, Remus brightens. "Well, actually, a few days ago she told me that if we were married she'd let us do whatever we want to the garden."

"Aw, that's unfortunate!" Sirius abruptly says, consolingly. "Because I'm sorry, but I don't want to marry you. Never mind that Lils would kill me."

Remus chokes on his tea. "I— _What_?"

"I feel as though we just had this conversation," James says, grinning and shaking his head. "… more tea?"


	24. 27 February–4 March 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius attempts a sit-down encounter with Rita Skeeter.

**Monday, 27 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm trying to broaden my culinary horizons and I thought I'd try some nice venison. Unfortunately I have no idea how to cook it! Any suggestions? /Elianne** Dear Elianne, Er, on a spit, over a roaring fire? With, er, beer sauce? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How often do people stop you on the street because they recognise you? Who gets stopped more, you or James Potter? /Anon.** Dear Anon, Quite surprisingly often, actually. James and I get stopped equally frequently — unless he's not being honest with me — and when we're together they start gushing about how lovely it is to see both of us at once. What's really funny though is when one of us gets stopped and asked where we've put the other. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Oooh, so you have a Quidditch player of your very own! And a well-built lady, at that! Dare I guess it's either Jodeica Morrow of the Ballycastle Bats, Antonia Andrews of the Kenmare Kestrels, or Erica Wray of the Montrose Magpies? Those are the buffest women in British Quidditch, after all! /R.S.** Dear R.S., It's none of them. Actually, when I said "my Quidditch player", I was referring to my best friend. I'm sure you haven't forgotten, but nevertheless I feel the need to remind you that he does, in fact, play Chaser for the Pride of Portree, occasionally. And, also, he's not a woman. Definitely not a woman. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm what you might call a bit of a sloppy dresser. I haven't cut my hair since 1977 and I usually only shave once a fortnight. All my mates dress the same way as me, so that's not a problem. However I'm madly in love with this girl who's a very classy dresser. All designer robes and colour coordinated shoes and handbags. Do you reckon she'd ever give me a chance, or do I need to get a makeover before I have a shot? /Tramp** Dear Tramp, Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say you need a makeover to win over this girl, especially since I believe in loving one for oneself and not who they turn themselves into for you, but taking fancy might be just the incentive you need to spiff yourself up a bit. Try getting a hair trim, just for start, and shaving now and them. And make sure your robes aren't full of rips and tears and split seams, and that your shoes aren't a completely opposite color from them. Little things like that. And you didn't mention this, so I don't know if you do or not, but definitely, _definitely_ remember to brush your teeth frequently. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the weirdest rumour you've ever heard about yourself? /Brittani** Dear Brittani, Well, when I was fifth year at Hogwarts, this really annoying sixth year prefect accused me of having "manipulated" the Sorting Hat and being a "spy" for the Slytherins. Does that count as a wild rumor? It also once reached my ears that I'm, apparently, James Potter's fraternal twin, separated at birth and only reunited by chance when we went to school (Not-Mum loved that one). I don't really know of many that are weirder... And that's without mentioning the unfounded speculation that I'm engaged to all five of Not-Mum's best friends, which is complete rubbish — Sorry, ladies, but you know I'm just not good enough for you! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Please share a story from one of these disastrous double dates! /Polly** Dear Polly, I think the easiest one for me to recount — well, the least cringe-inducing — was when our dates, who'd both been out with us at least once before, inexplicably became grumpy and sulky and accused us of paying more attention to each other than them! Can you believe it? There are others... but I'm not sure I'm brave enough to put them in print. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. I'm rather well endowed in the chest area, and no matter how conservatively I dress, every boy I talk to stares at my bosom rather than at my face! The other day I even caught one of the teachers doing this! It's getting really annoying because I know there's more to me than an ample cleavage! What should I do? /Busty** Dear Busty, I'm sorry, did you say something? No, really, I'm sorry. But I have to say, there are a lot of girls who I wouldn't let hear me complain about that, if I were you. I know it's annoying for you, and probably really screws with your self-image and all that, but you're lucky to be so attractive. I suggest giving really cold stares to the blokes who can't meet your eyes, and snapping frequently and making sharp comments about controlling their inner chauvinist pigs. The decent ones will get the point, and as for the others, well, they're not of a breed you should worry about; men like that just need hexing. Which, by the way, is also something you could try. Just mild ones, of course. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Has any of your girlfriends or girl friends ever put makeup on you? /Kay** Dear Kay, Good Merlin, shhhhh!! Don't say things like that where Lily can see! I'll never escape unscathed — she'll insist on taking my makeup virginity! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why do older brothers never let their little brothers play with them? /Sam, aged 8** Dear Sam, Because, as older brothers, we feel it is our duty to remind your younger brothers of your place in life. And by that I mean that we're just huge meanies and deserve to be smacked and whined at and pestered forever and ever. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you believe in love at first sight? Why/why not? /Romantic** Dear Romantic, Yes, and no, at the same time. I believe there's such thing as romantic love at first sight — not that I've ever exactly felt it — but platonic love, which I personally think is deeper and possessed of much more longevity, well, that takes time. And, sadly, it can be just as hard as romantic love, at least to do well. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 29 February 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Since it's leap day, I thought I'd ask. Don't worry, I'm not about to propose! I am, however, going to ask you out. I'm 21, I work as a shopkeeper's assistant, I love Quidditch (I'm even a Prides supporter) and dogs and I like to think I'm not boring or stupid. What do you say? /Juniper** Dear Juniper, I'm very sorry, ma'am, but unfortunately, I have to turn you down. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you wear jewellery? /Risa** Dear Risa, Er, no, I don't. Well, I have this one gold ring with a Gryffindor lion on it that I wear occasionally, but only for rather fancy events, like holidays and Sunday breakfasts and things. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, So what you're saying is that only women with large breasts are attractive? Thanks a lot, like I didn't feel unattractive enough already! I give up; I'll just be a spinster for the rest of eternity. /B cup** Dear Bee, No, no, of course I'm not saying that! It's true that large-bosomed women tend to get noticed more quickly, because their attractiveness is of a more ostentatious sort, but that doesn't mean they're the only ones who are attractive! Women such as you've described yourself to be have a more... subtle beauty, which believe it or not, many men do actually prefer, when it comes right down to it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really want to make friends with this boy in my year. I don't think he wants to get to know me, though, because he's a pureblood and he has all these other friends he's known forever and he probably doesn't need any more. I reckon we'd be great mates though but how should I convince him of this? /E.M., age 12** Dear E.M., Convince him? I have to say, I don't like the sound of that. Just be yourself, and hopefully this fellow will see how well suited the two of you are to be friends. Now, that doesn't really seem like a plan of action, I know, so I'll also advise that you should maybe try siting next to him in classes and during meals and making lots, and lots, and lots of small talk. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am the world's biggest spender! I can never save money. I'm not getting paid for another week and I can't afford food so I'm inviting myself over to friends' houses every night and I think they're starting to catch on. Any tips on how to avoid this? /Skint** Dear Skint, On how to avoid your friends catching on to the fact that you're using their houses as free restaurants? Yes; it's called doing it less frequently. As to how to manage that? Get another job — even if it doesn't manage to keep your spending within your income, at least you'll (hopefully) be too busy to eat. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I read the recent question about make-up and I thought I'd ask. I think my fiancé wears eyeliner! He denies it when I ask him but eyes like that just can't be natural. What does this mean?! /Casey** Dear Casey, It means your fiancé has unnaturally outlined eyes, or he wears eyeliner. I really don't see what deeper meaning you're trying to draw out of this — it's just eyeliner. A little kohl never hurt anyone! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you ever get bored answering all these questions? /Restless** Dear Restless, I very seldom get bored with the questions. There's such a very strange variety in them... and besides, I like giving bad advice to people. This way, I get paid for it! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been married for nearly four years and the romance is just dead. My wife has completely stopped wearing makeup or shaving her legs. She does her business with the door open. She wears really ugly ratty old robes to bed. I love her, but I feel as though she's more of an unattractive sister than my wife at the moment! How do I tell her this without getting hexed? /Married to an ogre** Dear Mr Ogre, You could try suggesting that the two of you go on some romantic getaway — you know, to one of those places where it's impossible to let yourself remain unattractive, like Cancun or something — and hope that jump-starts her self-image back into gear. If it doesn't work, try buying her some really sexy nightgowns; if she gets the right idea and becomes indignant because you think she's not being attractive enough, calmly explain that you just wanted to pamper her because you love her so much. Also, you could install one of those Muggle automatic closing thingies on your bathroom door. If all else fails, well, then just hide her wand before you tell her that she's hopelessly messy and not at all sexy and you're really getting frustrated and maybe she should come back out of the cave and start enjoying life again. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever been in love? /Romantic** Dear Romantic, Thank you for asking. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is it like being the heir of such a well-known pureblood family? /P.L.** Dear P.L., Er. I wouldn't make that kind of statement about me where my mother can read it, if I were you. She's not very nice. To actually answer your question, however, that part of my life is pretty much... incidental. I could definitely do without. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**London, England  
1 March 1984  
4.16 pm** _

Sirius has no trouble spotting the café where he has agreed — rather reluctantly, if truth be told — to meet Rita Skeeter. Indeed, the place's sign is more than eye-catching enough, even without the fiercely magical display of the building itself. _The Heart of The Lion_ is blazed across a sparkling feline-shaped sign, as wide as Sirius is tall, which is hanging out over the street and swinging of its own accord. With a single, slightly condescending look for the thing, Sirius opens the doors, oddly also sparkly, and enters.

One step inside the café, however, and he comes up short, looking around.

From a table near the back of the café — the interior of which is even sparklier than its outside, with black walls covered in some sort of glittery material -- a hand with very long, sharp-looking bright red fingernails shoots into the air. "Mr Black! Yoo-hoo! Sirius!" Approximately a third of the café patrons turn around to stare, first at the mannish hand with the outlandish nails, and then towards the door, at Sirius.

"Over here!" the woman adds, rather unnecessarily.

Tight-lipped, Sirius is presently staring at the ceiling, where the stars of a night sky has been picked out against the black paint, done in something not only sparkly but glowy, depicting most specifically the constellation of Leo. After a brief moment, and looking rather forbidding, he lowers his eyes to the woman calling him. Another moment, and he begins making his way over to her. The woman is still waving as he approaches, her blonde curls bouncing around her face.

Sirius has almost reached her table — face growing steadily stonier with each step he takes — when his approach is halted by a pair of legs belonging to the man at one of the nearby tables. They are rather long legs. They are also most decidedly In Sirius's Way.

"Pardon me," the man mutters in a low baritone after a moment, not taking his eyes away from the newspaper held just in front of his face. He does, however, retract his legs.

Absently noting the sheer horror of an ugly hat that the man is wearing, Sirius grunts a terse reply, and finishes striding over to the woman he's come to meet. He's rather scowling a bit. Said woman, however, is grinning widely enough for the both of them (and then some). Standing up, she extends one of the previously waving hands.

"Rita Skeeter. Pleasure to meet you."

"Ms Skeeter," greets Sirius coolly, stopping next to the free chair. He does not reach for the proffered hand, instead regarding it with the curious suspicion one might expect when dealing with things like Muggle televangelists, or good friends acting far too innocently. Possibly even an overture of adoration from one's worst enemy.

Recovering quickly from this, Rita instead motions to the chair. "Please have a seat, Mr Black. Do you mind if I call you Sirius?"

"Distinctly." Sirius hesitates an instant longer, then finally deigns to sit down… but only once he's certain she has returned to her seat as well. He apparently cannot help himself acting a bit of the gentleman. "But I've a feeling that won't stop you, so you might as well go ahead."

"Excellent," Rita states, clasping her hands in front of her. "How are you, dear boy?"

Sirius gives her a long look of disbelief. "Oh, I'm just marvellous," he eventually replies. "Absolutely corking."

"Smashing," Rita replies. "What will you be drinking? Coffee? Tea? Whiskey?"

"Whiskey with a little tea in it, please," declares Sirius, still practically glaring at her. "A _very_ little tea."

Not even batting an eye, Rita snaps her fingers. "Waiter!"

Sirius watches her place his order with the eager young man who has promptly scurried over. Then man then scurries away, and back again unbelievably quickly. As his tea-laced whiskey is placed on the table in front of him, Sirius murmurs a curt thank-you to the outlandishly dressed individual, and then, "So, Ms Skeeter."

"Rita, please," she replies, watching as the departing waiter stumbles over the same legs that brought Sirius to a standstill earlier.

"Rita, then." Sirius takes a rather large drink from his cup. He looks at it, then to her, then back at it. He takes another drink. Rather resignedly, he declares, "There. I am fortified. Shall we?"

Nodding once, Rita reaches into her crocodile-skin handbag. A few seconds later, she plants a large book, its black front cover adorned with very frilly gold lettering and what looks like a golden family crest, on the table. Sirius stares at the book, a creeping expression of horror coming over his face. He makes a slightly strangled noise.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Rita asks, mistaking his sound as one of glee.

"Do you have permission to use that?" Sirius manages to choke out, his gaze still on the book, as if transfixed.

"Of course," Rita says, tapping the book with one crimson fingernail. "I'm not a novice, you know."

Sirius does not look as impressed as he's probably supposed to. In fact, if possible, he looks even more horrified. "Permission from _whom_?"

Rita flashes him what she probably considers a winning smile. "Your cousin."

"Which cousin?" asks Sirius. Then, immediately, as if thinking better of the question, hastens to declare, "Though of course it doesn't matter, as none of _them_ have the right; only Grandfather— _Which_ cousin?"

"Well," Rita says, her smile fading a bit, "only one of them would actually talk to me."

"Which one?" Sirius repeats, actually sounding slightly curious this time. Rita regards him through her glasses, as though it should be obvious. "Ms Ske— Rita," intones Sirius a little more loudly. "Which one?"

"Chapter sixteen," is Rita's reply, as she pushes the book towards him.

With a sharp, dubious look up at the reporter's face, Sirius moves one hand and gingerly pulls the book closer to his side of the table, flipping it open. While he's doing this, Rita's busy removing a bright green quill from her handbag. Sirius doesn't seem to notice, as he's busy searching for chapter 16. It's obvious when he finds it, as his fingers still, and his entire body seems to tense. His brows draw down, and he asks darkly, "And _she_ gave you permission for this."

"If by this you mean the use of your family crest," Rita says lightly, digging around for some parchment. "Why, does that surprise you?"

"You actually _spoke_ to her."

"In a manner of speaking."

"What _kind_ of manner of speaking?" presses Sirius, lifting his head briefly and raising his eyebrows. He doesn't look particularly happy.

"No matter," Rita says, waving an impatient hand. "Do you mind if I take notes during our conversation?"

Sirius flips a page, his face darkening. "Why would you want to do that?" he asks warily, giving her another narrow look.

"Future editions," says Rita, positioning the quill over the piece of parchment she's uncovered. 

For the first time since opening the book, Sirius fully turns his attention away from it, focusing instead on Rita. His eyes, narrowed, shine furiously. Leaning forward slightly, he lowers his voice and growls, " _Ms Skeeter._ Do _not_ presume to think that my attendance here today is in _any way_ a condonation of this insult of a book — or any further volumes of similar nature — or the sentiments, impressions, or interpretations expressed in it. You _are not_ at liberty to take notes of anything I might say, and you _may not_ quote me. Is that understood?"

Rita looks a little taken aback, as the man next to them coughs loudly behind his paper. Sirius ignores the sound from the neighbouring table, his eyes narrowing even more.

"I _said_ , is that _understood_?" he repeats, the further lowering of his tone combining with the clenching of the hand still on the table and promising violence in the immediate future.

"Understood," Rita nods, the quill pausing and coming to rest on the table once more. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Good." Amazingly, the majority of Sirius's evident hostility melts away as quickly as he leans back in his chair. He still does not look happy, but at least now he no longer looks as if he is on the brink of becoming a mass-murderer. "Now that's settled…"

Rita straightens her glasses, pursing her lips slightly.

"Where should we start?" enquires Sirius, in cool tones. He takes another drink of whiskey.

Rita gives her quill a quick, sad glance. "What's your relationship with your family like?"

"My family of choice, or by blood?" Sirius counters pleasantly.

"Is there a difference?" Rita asks, raising her voice as the man behind them rustles his newspaper rather noisily.

"'Is there a difference,'" Sirius replies, mimicking her rather ruthlessly. He gives a quick, hard, barking laugh. "Of course there is. My family by blood, I don't love."

The man next to them knocks his drink over.

"I see," Rita says, scratching her nose with her quill. "And your family by choice would be…"

"Oh, it's rather less extensive than that by blood," replies Sirius, after cutting his eyes to the next table in quick puzzlement; the man occupying it seems uncommonly noisy. "There's Imogen, Lily, Andi, Ted, Dora… Oh, and Remus, of course…"

Rita's hand taps on the empty piece of parchment.

"… and James Potter?"

"Well, what about him?" asks Sirius, arching one eyebrow. "He's James Potter, isn't he?"

Rita raises her rather well-pencilled eyebrows at him. "Did you two fall out?"

The look Sirius gives her is flat and faintly incredulous. "That's some kind of lame joke, right?" he scoffs. His other eyebrow joins the first. "You haven't noticed any other signs of the apocalypse, have you?"

Rita looks like she's just gotten scent of some particularly juicy gossip, while Sirius is just looking at her as if he thinks she's an idiot — which, really. He probably does. "As a journalist, one would think you'd've realised that 'James Potter?' is not a proper question for an interview. Which, by the way, I assume you mean this to be?"

"Is it what _you_ mean this to be?" Rita shoots back at him, straightening her glasses once more.

"Not if I can bloody help it," he snaps, so sharply that his words themselves might as well have teeth.

"Well then," says Rita, tapping her chin with her quill again. "Let's just call it a friendly meeting between colleagues then, shall we?"

"A meeting between colleagues, at least," Sirius mutters, mostly to himself.

Rita's fingers look as though they're cramping for her quill.

Sirius hits his whiskey again; the cup is nearly empty. He clears his throat. "So, then, any other questions? I don't want to be late."

"I was hoping you'd be a bit more… forthcoming," Rita tells him, pushing the book on the table toward him once more. "This is your copy. Consider it a gift."

Sirius stares at the book on the table. Like, maybe it's not a book at all, but a starving lethifold. "…Joy."

Rita stands, snapping her handbag shut. "Well then, Sirius," she says, brushing herself off. "This was a lovely little meeting." Then, leaning in, she adds, "I think that fellow over there has been eavesdropping to our conversation."

If Sirius had been a dog, his hackles would have raised. Instantly. "Indeed," he murmurs, barely above the sound of a breath. He gives Rita a dangerous smile, standing as well. "It's been… interesting. Maybe we'll do it again some time."

"You have my card," Rita nods, turning around with a bounce of her curls, her heels clicking as she exits the café.

Sirius turns from watching her depart, to stare at the alleged eavesdropper — the noisy, clumsy man at the next table, the one with the legs, who is hiding behind the newspaper. Said man peeks over the top of said paper quickly, revealing a pair of sunglasses, before quickly ducking back down.

Eyebrows arching, Sirius takes a step closer to the other man's table. Quickly, he reaches out and pushes the paper down to the table top. The face behind the newspaper is mostly obscured — by the brim of the man's hat, his sunglasses, the collar of his coat, and most prominent of all, by a large, black, bushy mustache.

Sirius stares at the spectacle for a moment. The threatening light in his eyes fades considerably. Then, "Merlin's sake, what in the bleeding hell do you have on your face? It looks like you got your lip attacked by a monster caterpillar."

A rather sheepish half-grin is somewhat visible from underneath the caterpillar-tache. Grunting to acknowledge that he's seen the expression, Sirius plants himself in the chair opposite the man and folds his arms over his chest. "How much did you hear, anyway?"

"… that depends."

"Don't see how," retorts Sirius, with a sharp look. "But fine. What does it depend on, then?"

A pair of hazel eyes peer over the rims of the dark sunglasses covering them. "On how upset you are."

"…which means you heard everything." With a gusty sigh, Sirius uncrosses his arms. He presses two fingers to his temple. " _Why_?"

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't rip her to shreds." The shrug following this statement is barely visible underneath the enormous coat.

"And from your actions, I'm to suppose you felt that was a likely outcome?" mutters Sirius, following the comment with a disdainful look for the man's outfit. "You look _hideous_ , by the way."

"What, you don't think I should start wearing this to work?"

The expression on Sirius's face is answer enough to that question. "You're not the least bit sneaky or subtle, either. I've no idea how you survived the war, with skills like this. 'S pitiful, my dear."

Making no move to remove any of the things he's wearing, his companion shoots back, "Hiding behind you?"

"You saying I'm fat?"

"Don't twist my words around like a big girl." The grin accompanying these words fades a little. "So I'm not family, eh?"

Sirius gives him a flat look. "Well, I don't know. Want to be my brother?" Following the words, Sirius throws a quick glare at the ceiling.

The only response to this is a noise somewhere between a grunt and a scoff.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," returns Sirius, banishing his glare with a faint smile.

It's hard to tell, but the other man does not look placated.

Sirius's faint smile runs off again. "What? You're not going to tell me you expected to be first on the list, or something, are you?"

After a second or two, Sirius gets another shrug in reply.

"Words would be nice now," presses Sirius. The words would seem sharp, if it weren't for the nearly tender tone in which he says them.

"What do you want me to say to that?" is the rather gruff response.

"Well, you could always say 'yes, Sirius, I'm an arrogant, greedy bastard, so of course I did'…"

The legs of the chair opposite Sirius scrape sharply against the floor, as its occupant makes to rise rather violently. Sirius regards the man blandly, the only sign of a reaction the clenching of his hands, as if to prevent them reaching out across the table. "Or you could say 'fuck you, Sirius Black, you're a stupid, insensitive prick, anyway'…" 

This comment earns him a glare, visible even behind the dark lenses.

Sighing, Sirius seems to deflate, sagging back against the chair. He rubs a hand over his eyes. "Look, I…"

His companion pauses, half-standing already.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry, because I'm not," Sirius admits quietly, leaving his hand over his eyes. "You _aren't_ family."

With a small sigh, the other man stands up fully.

"…you're better," Sirius says finishes, even more quietly.

After a moment of silence, the now standing man removes his sunglasses, blinking at Sirius.

Sirius can't see him, and so doesn't notice his reaction. A little more loudly, he adds, "You weren't supposed to hear that, anyway."

"Why didn't you —"

"Didn't I bloody _what_?" interrupts Sirius, dropping his hand and looking tiredly up at the other man.

"Just — just tell her that."

"Oh, _please_ ," scoffs Sirius, a scowl appearing on his face. "As if I'd really go and tell some uppity report bitch with aspirations above her caliber, who has in fact written a horrid, scandalous book about my family, that you are without question the most important person in my whole life. What kind of chatty, ridiculous fool do you take me for?"

It takes a few seconds for this line to sink in, but once it does, the hat joins the sunglasses on the table (although the mustache stays in place), and a hand reaches out to cover one of Sirius's. 

Sirius's hand jerks as he tries to pull it away.

"Hey."

"What?" mutters Sirius wearily, though he stills his hand.

"Don't listen to her, all right?"

"Huh?" Sirius blinks, as if he's confused.

The thumb resting on Sirius's hand is rubbing back and forth slightly in a seemingly unconscious manner. "What does she know, anyway."

Sirius takes a deep breath. "She has a whole chapter where she talks shit about Andi!"

"Shh, Sirius."

"And she—" Sirius continues, rubbing at his face with his free hand. "She went and picked this _stupid_ café, James."

Resolutely, James reaches out and takes the book away from Sirius. "I know. I know."

"I can't _believe_ the irony of her picking this place," Sirius goes on, clearly agitated. He turns his hand over to grasp James's.

"I kn— wait, what irony?"

Sirius frowns at him. "You did notice the name of this place, didn't you?"

James just blinks back at him.

"Didn't you?"

"The lion something something?"

"The Heart of the Lion," Sirius hisses, freeing his hand to point furiously at the ceiling. " _Heart_ of the _Lion_ , James!"

"Heart of th — oh." James looks a bit uncomfortable behind his mustache. "Regulus."

Sirius glares at him. The grip of his hand on James's is rather tight.

"Why don't we get out of here, then?" James suggests. "Come on."

"Take me home and feed me?" Sirius requests, looking over at James with wide eyes.

"Always," James replies with a soft smile, as he tugs gently at Sirius's hand.

Sirius lets himself be pulled to his feet, making sure they're not leaving the book behind. "And do NOT let me think about that woman, all right?"

"I'll do my best to distract you."

Sirius smiles at him, and it actually reaches his eyes. "Good. In that case, I shouldn't have any trouble forgetting her."

The smile James sends him in return is mostly hidden behind his facial hair.

Sirius's smile fades a bit. "For crying out loud, Jim, I can't even _see_ you," he mutters grumpily. Reaching out, he tugs on one corner of the offending mustache.

James yelps rather loudly.

"…Godric's arse, it's bloody _real_ , isn't it."

"What do you think?" James replies, rubbing at his upper lip. "Bloody hell, that hurt."

"The first thing you're doing when we get back is getting rid of that," instructs Sirius.

"What, you don't like it?"

"I can't bloody see you."

"And that's a bad thing?" James asks with a small grin. 

"I _like_ being able to see you," retorts Sirius.

"I'll have you know, my grandad had whiskers just like this…"

"Well, your grandad doesn't live with me."

"I should hope not, he's been dead for fifteen years." James tugs at his hand again. "Weren't we getting out of here?"

"Yes, you were gonna let me follow you home."

"Grab my hat, then."

Pausing, Sirius glances at the hat. "Can't we forget it?"

James regards the blue and orange checkered hat somewhat sadly. "But I just bought it."

"I can't believe you spent money on this," sighs Sirius, but he reaches down to pick it up.

"You just have a very limited outlook on life when it comes to headwear," James replies, chuckling. "C'mon."

"Yes, sir, mon capitaine."

Grinning, Sirius follows him out.

* * *

**Friday, 2 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you aware that you're dodging the question? /Romantic** Dear Romantic, I believe it had occurred to me, yes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best mate just had a baby boy and they've appointed me godfather. I have no idea what that entails!! Any hints? /Clueless** Dear Clueless, Well, I don't reckon being a godfather would be all that much work, unless your friend and his wife went and died — they're not planning to do that, are they? If they're not, you should be good just making a big fuss out of the boy, carrying his picture around in your wallet, and buying really noisy, useless toys for him on all holidays and birthdays. Maybe also give his parents totally impractical advice, during such interesting times as when they're potty training him, and teaching him mildly naughty terms like "rack" and "pants" but definitely not "shite" and "arse" if you value your limbs. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend's best friend recently let slip that my boyfriend is planning on proposing to me on our anniversary, which is in two weeks. I am in such a panic because I'm planning on breaking up with him!! How do I let him know? /Wants to be single, not engaged** Dear Wannabe, Well, saying "We have to talk" and then, you know, _telling_ him might be a good way to go about that. Before he proposes, preferably — since you don't really want to completely destroy the man, do you? It'd be better to just get it over with, even if you do it sloppily, than to avoid it because you're not sure exactly what to say; the point is that you say something, while you still can. Sirius PS: Also? Don't bring up the subject of him proposing, if you can help it. It'd be mortifying. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I work with a woman who looks just like your friend James! Does he have a sister called Ellen? /L.P.** Dear L.P., I'm afraid he doesn't; he has no siblings at all. I think he has a few cousins, though, so maybe it's one of them? I can't really remember if there's an Ellen in the family. Unfortunately, most of his relatives don't like me; I have the terrible feeling it's because most of them have met my mother. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever been ice-skating? What did you think of it? /Skater** Dear Skater, I've been ice skating only once. I do not plan on ice skating ever again if I live for a million years. I was attacked, by the ice (and the other skaters, and my skates, and my scarf). Brutally. And repeatedly. I did not like it. Frozen water and I apparently do not get along unless more — or would that be _less_? — vodka is involved. Also, you are not allowed to ask James Potter if he had fun that day. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any advice on how to get your hair to curl (and stay that way)? /Stick-straight** Dear Sticky, I've heard of several charms for curling hair, but I'm afraid I don't remember them, as I've never really wanted to make myself afro-ish. There're these Muggle things called "curlers" which you put in your hair while its wet, though, and I've heard they work reasonably well; also, "curling irons" which are like metal rods that you heat up and then kind of burn your hair into submission, and I think they work rather well, too. Also, try Muggle "hairspray" to... solidify... your style. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm Muggle born and started smoking cigarettes when I was 15. I know they're really bad for you, and my boyfriend hates the smell of them, so I've decided to try to quit. It's REALLY HARD, though! The longest I managed without a fag was two hours and that's just not very good, is it? Do you have any advice? /Smokey** Dear Smokey, Um, hypnotism? Shock therapy? (And by that, I mean having someone shock you with their wand whenever they see you about to light up.) Try chewing things, like gum, or carrots, or pencils, or — well, this is a family publication, so I won't go _there_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your view on disco music? /Stuart** Dear Stuart, It makes me dizzy. And it provokes really ridiculous full-body seizures that for some reason people feel compelled to call "dancing." Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Which countries have you been to? /Traveller** Dear Traveller, Ah, an interesting question! I've actually been to quite a few. Let's see... England, of course, and Scotland, and Wales, and I spent a week in Ireland a few years ago... the States... France numerous times with the family, as well as Italy, Portugal and even Germany once... and James and I took Not-Mum (and five of her closest friends) to the Bahamas for Christmas back in '82... I've also been to India and Spain, or so I'm told, but I was too young to remember those trips, so I'm not sure they count. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've never had much luck in the romantic department, and about five years ago I was starting to feel I would never find anyone. Then I met this guy, let's call him Pete, who is lovely and intelligent and funny and good-looking and just about perfect in every way, and he even liked me back. We started going out about four years ago and moved in together after six months. We'd been discussing marriage and kids for a while, when he finally broke down one night and told me he can't do this, because he's gay! I have never been more devastated in my life -- I am actually so repulsive that I've turned him off women forever! Do you have any idea what I might have done wrong? I haven't been able to stop crying for six days! /Wench** Dear Wench, I am so, so terribly sorry for you; I can't begin to say how much. However, I hesitate to agree that you've done anything "wrong" to bring this on yourself — it certainly doesn't sound like you have. You mustn't blame yourself because he's gay, even if you know for a fact that he wasn't aware he was gay when he first got involved with you, because it just doesn't work like that. This was not your fault. I know it's still hard, since failed relationships always are, and I'm sure this one is worse for the vague feeling of betrayal you're doubtless experiencing, but you must believe it will get better. It has to, after all, as it certainly couldn't get worse, could it? Sirius PS: ... There's a very nice, dishy bloke in my office whose girl just left him for another woman; shall I introduce you? You can console each other and maybe even be able to convince one — or hopefully both — of you that you're not repulsive.  
---


	25. 5–11 March 1984

**Monday, 5 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know if there are any spells which enable you to communicate with fish? I have three pet goldfish named Larry, Barry and Harry who I love very dearly, and I would love to have discussions with them! /Jerry** Dear Jerry, What a fishy question! I'm afraid I've never heard of any such spells. I suggest, if people really are so inadequate to your needs and you're really that intent on communicating with your pets, that you try writing to someone whose field is spells — perhaps the Charms professor at Hogwarts, if you don't know of anyone else. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you believe in dream analysis? And what's the last dream you can remember having? /Prudence** Dear Prudence, Not really, since it all seems like a bigger load of hogwash than Divination and the last dream I can remember having isn't at all printable in anything except an XXX magazine, so I really don't think you want me to answer that last half of your question. I think it would kill my Not-Mum if I did. Though, now I'm thinking about it, I would rather like to see someone try and _analyse_ it... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How are you, my dear? I haven't seen you or Jimmy in such a long time! Is Imogen hogging all your spare time again? Please do come over for tea and crumpets one of those days! Lots of love, Greta Killburn** Dear Greta, My darling girl! Why have you not written in before now? Do you know, I think I've only gotten five letters at the office from you the whole time I've worked here! I'm quite, quite excellent — I've been eating enough, too, as has _Jimmy_ , so we're not nearly as scrawny as when you last saw us. If I can convince Not-Mum to spare us this weekend, J and I will try to come by for those crumpets (will you make your special ones? Please? For me? You know I adore them), or you could just drop in at her house! We can usually be found there on most Sunday mornings... though if she hadn't told you that by now then she'll probably box my ears for letting it out. Whoops! Fervent adoration, Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You seem to be rather big on hooking people up on dates! Is it your doing that your friend Remus is going out with Lily Evans? Because I was in the same year as you at school, and if I recall correctly, Potter was the one with the crush on her, not Lupin! /Curious** Dear Curious, Are you kidding? I had nothing to do with Lils and Remus hooking up. If I had, I would have got her someone less... Remus-like, I'm sure, though of course not James because everyone is glad she rejected him in the first place. No, they did it all on their own. They got thrown together frequently after we left school, and I guess they just kind of hit it off; I was a little too busy at the time myself to really notice. But you've made me curious, as well. Now I'm going to have to ask Lils for the whole story, drat you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the craziest thing you've ever done? /Wildhog** Dear Wildhog, Um, crazy, in whose terms? Because somehow I don't think you'd count my wrestling match with the werewolf, since ordinarily people would consider that plain _stupid_ rather than crazy. Kind of like baiting James Potter after the Prides lose a Finals match... But no. Crazy? Two words: Flying Motorcycle. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it all right for a bloke to use hair and skin care potions, or is it a bit girly? /Joscelin** Dear Joscelin, If I were more certain which gender you are, I'd have more of an idea what kind of answer you're looking for. As it is, I have to wing it and say honestly that I don't think it's particularly girly; why should females be the only ones who care about their bodies and how they feel and look? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, With all these rumours, I have to ask: have you ever dated any Quidditch players? /Sports mad** Dear Mad, Funny you should ask that... There was this _fling_ once... With this real _egotist_ of a Quidditch star... Totally _gorgeous_ , but _what_ a _personality_... Shhh, though!! I hear someone's written a book on me, and since that's well known, we wouldn't want to force any last minute revisions!! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am nearly nine years old and I have no brothers or sisters. Only a bunny. I really want a baby brother but a sister would be fine too. As long as I didn't have to paint my room pink. How can I get my parents to give me one? /Kieran** Dear Kieran, Er. Have you tried asking them? If that didn't work — or doesn't, as the case may be — then try your grandparents. Ask repeatedly. And consider practicing a pathetic, hangdog look; use a mirror to make sure you get the right pleading puppy expression in your eyes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it really true that your initials are S.O.B.? /Anagrammer** Dear Anagrammer, Indeed it is. Rather makes one wonder about my mother's powers of observation, doesn't it? Or maybe she just wanted to advertise.... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My dad passed away when I was ten, and my mother's been single ever since. My aunt (her sister) has also been single up until now, but now she's engaged to German Quidditch player Jochen Wachtmeister! Both my mum and my aunt have fancied him since they were my age, so my aunt is very smug. The only person they both fancy more is you, so I was wondering if you'd consider marrying my mother to one-up my aunt? It'd be fabulous! /Julianna, 15** Dear Julianna, While I can understand your desire to help your mother 'beat' her sister, and I'm flattered that both your mother and your aunt fancy me more than Jochen Wachtmeister, I can't help but feel that this particular attempt on your part is misguided. I'm not convinced that marrying a twenty-something journalist would _really_ make your mother feel better about her sister marrying the middle-aged object of their mutual teen celebrity crush. Somehow, the generated self-esteem levels just don't seem... equal. Besides, I think my roommate would take it badly if I up and got married. But maybe, in the interest of promoting sibling rivalry, I could just come by and be nice to your mother, so she'd have something to brag about to your aunt? It's not quite the same thing as marrying her, but it's the best I can do under the circumstances... Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 7 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, A fling with a Qudditch player! Oh my. Who was it? Did it end badly since you speak so lowly of her? /R.S.** Dear R.S., My, my, you're just full of theories, aren't you? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it weird for a man to be into knitting? /Mitchell** Dear Mitchell, Well, yes, it is a bit. Unless you mean, into knitting as in, he likes to wear jumpers a lot, because that's not weird at all. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Don't call me Jimmy. /JAMES** Dear JAMES, Greta did it first! And anyway, I'll call you whatever I want to call you; I'd like to see you try and stop me. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, It was my birthday last week and my parents got me a pet rat. At first I was thrilled, but it's done nothing but bite me and poop! Have you got any hints on how to handle pet rats? /Rat owner** Dear R.O., Uh... Get a cat? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you prefer, Scrabble or trivia games? /K.M.** Dear K.M., As a rule, I prefer Scrabble to trivia games, but only because I don't like losing to Remus who has no imagination and therefore fails at Scrabble but has an excellent memory for pointless details and therefore is ace at trivia games. If I had my choice, though? Exploding Snap, please. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Isn't it enough that your readers pester YOU about your love life; now they have to ask about mine, too? Some people really should get out more. /L.E. PS: Please stop insulting my boyfriend in roundabout ways like that.** Dearest Lils, Now now, don't get bitter, my girl. It's not our fault we're more interesting than other people. (Well, okay, yes, it is your fault.) But I agree, they should definitely get out more. And so should your boyfriend — if he did he might not make fun of my job so much and then I wouldn't have to insult him sneakily. I could do it outright and not feel guilty! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, HELP! I think I'm going prematurely bald! I'm only 35 years old and I'm not ready yet! Have you got any hints on which hairstyles hide a bald spot the best? /Hair today, gone tomorrow** Dear Hair, Hat. Thank you, and goodnight. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why does my sister turn into a raving lunatic about once every month? At first I thought she was a werewolf but the dates don't add up! Is there any other explanation? /Lucas, age 10** Dear Lucas, This would be your older sister, I'm assuming, right? There's a very standard and reasonable explanation for her behaviour — she's busy bleeding to death. But don't worry, all women do it once a month or so. It just makes them really irritable, naturally; how would you like bleeding to death, eh? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you believe in aliens? Why or why not? /G. Hale** Dear Hale, I don't believe in aliens because the government doesn't want me to. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Say a bloke drunkenly snogs another bloke, who happens to be his best mate. This doesn't mean he's gay, right? Theoretically, I mean. /Anon.** Dear Anon, Well no. Not unless he really, really wants to do it again, and again, and then while sober. And naked. Theoretically, I mean. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 9 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for you? /Lenore** Dear Lenore, Well, at one point, when I was younger, I needed a place to stay, and the Potters took me in — and still haven't let me go again. I think that's pretty damn nice of them, all things considered. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I reckon you'd look really cool with an eyebrow piercing. Ever considered it? /Alex** Dear Alex, ... No, I can't say that I have. Why would I want to poke holes in my eyebrows? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Would you please tell my wife that it is NOT a good idea to name our newborn daughter after a month (like December or May) or a day of the week (like Tuesday) when our surname is Knight? /The sane parent** Dear Sane, To your wife: Ma'am, I mean it when I say, respectfully, that to do any of the above would constitute cruel and unusual punishment. To your daughter's friends, if not the girl herself. Sirius, who speaks from experience 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Did you ever hold a summer job, Muggle or magical, while you were at Hogwarts? /Rhoe** Dear Rhoe, No, I did not. I didn't really see the point, wasting my free time earning money. Swimming was _much_ more fun. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is there any subject you didn't take in school that you now wish that you had? Or the other way around? /Book worm** Dear Bookie, Well, I kind of detested Herbology...? Other than that, no, I'm still pleased with my choices, class-wise. (Should have made James take Runes, though...) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you get to see Quidditch games for free? /Potentially jealous** Dear Green-eyed One, Depending on your definition of "for free", yes. When I get to attend the matches in question, I invariably also have to review the game, and/or interview one of the players. Which, I don't mind saying, is _not_ always all it's cracked up to be. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife is a Muggle and wants me to learn how to drive a car. Since you have experience in Muggle traffic, do you have any tips and hints? I have no idea where to start! /Muggle Married** Dear Muggle-lover (and I mean that in the best way), My best advice is this — don't assume that small children, little old ladies, and street vendors are "worth extra points". Also, do not equip your vehicle with a forward-facing blasting hex, for use dispelling traffic jams. Nobody ever seems to appreciate either course. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, After quite a bit of consideration, I have decided that all the men I meet are scumbags and not worthy of my attention. However, I do not wish to die an old spinster. Do you have any suggestions as to where I might meet a man with a sense of humour, a head on his shoulders, and a concept of personal hygiene? It'd be much appreciated. /Penelope** Dear Penelope, Clone me. Alternatively, clone James Potter. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you any good at keeping secrets? /R.R.** Dear Rrrrr[rrrr], Hah! I should say so. I can even handle torture! Of a sort, anyway. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Look around. What's the nearest blue object? /Paulie** Dear Paulie, My roommate's t-shirt. Which I am wearing because he apparently forgot to do my laundry. (At least, any of my laundry containing shirts.) It doesn't fit properly, for the record. And it's an awful, loud shade of the colour. Please don't ask me to look at it anymore. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
10 March 1984  
4.16 pm** _

"Honey, I'm home!" calls Sirius, popping into the front hall, looking slightly windswept.

"Get in here," James shouts back, not even bothering to say hello. "You've got to see this."

Eyebrow raised in surprise, Sirius discards his jacket and ambles into the living room, from which the noise emanated. "See what? Are you naked?"

James, fully clothed on the sofa, gives him a look that's half amused, half exasperated.

"Damn, knew I couldn't get that lucky," mutters Sirius, with a small grin, as he lowers himself to the sofa next to James. "So what'm I supposed to be seeing, then?"

After a few moments of flipping through the newspaper he's holding, James hands it over to the other man. With a curious look at James's face, Sirius starts reading. After a moment, he gives James another look, this one much different.

The corner of James's mouth is twitching. 

"I kind of want to hex this Skeeter woman," Sirius mutters, mostly to himself. "I'm 'disillusioned with the charms of James Potter's friendship,' indeed."

"Good thing I have other charms," James mumbles, turning his head slightly to nuzzle Sirius's neck. 

Sirius tilts his head a little, giving James more room. "And you've 'moved on from your fascination with the outcast'?"

"I dunno, does it seem that way?"

"Nah, you're as obsessed as ever," replies Sirius loftily. He leans forward, disrupting James's position, and tosses the newspaper on the coffee table. "Ridiculous trash."

"Indeed," James agrees, slipping an arm around Sirius's shoulders. "How was the game?"

"It was all right." Sirius shrugs slightly, the movement somehow having the effect of pushing him more firmly against James's side. "Nothing spectacular, really; 150-320, Harpies. D'you realise how _bad_ the Magpies are this season?"

"Dreadful," James agrees. "You look cold."

"Do I?" Sirius looks at him blandly. "Funny, I don't _feel_ cold."

"No?" asks James, reaching out to poke the other man's nose. "Your nose is cold."

"I hate it when you tell me that."

James grins at him, his fingers moving from Sirius's nose down his jaw, coming to rest on his cheek. "Aren't you going to ask me how my day's been so far?"

"Do I have to?" asks Sirius, leaning almost imperceptibly into James's hand. "I already know it can't have been too bad."

"Mum came over with cake."

Sirius abruptly sits up straighter. "Why didn't you say that before?" he demands.

"Because," James says, twisting slightly where he's sitting, and in one smooth move stands up and sits back down, straddling Sirius's lap. 

Hands going instinctively to James's hips, Sirius stares at him, looking slightly torn. "…what kind of cake was it?"

James, before answering, leans in for a quick kiss. "Carrot."

"Oh." One of Sirius's hands curls around so that it's resting on James's arse instead of his hip. He brushes his lips over James's again. "There's some left, yes?"

"Mhm."

Sirius lets his teeth catch James's bottom lip briefly. "It'll keep, I suppose."

James grins against his lips for a moment, before leaning in more fully, tangling a hand in Sirius's hair as he kisses him more deeply. The hand on James's hip moves up to his back.

A few seconds later, Sirius pulls away enough to ask, smirking, "Miss me?"

"Don't get smug."

"But you did, didn't you?" presses Sirius, his hands pulling James closer.

"Yeah," James breathes, nuzzling Sirius's nose with his own. "Yeah, I did."

"Mmm, me too," murmurs Sirius, arms tightening briefly.

Now James is the one wearing a rather smug grin, as he recaptures Sirius's lips.

Sirius lets their tongues tangle for a few moments before, with a little upward lift of his hips, he innocently asks, "Want to go upstairs?"

"Does that mean you're not disillusioned with my charms after all?" James asks, his own hips tilting forward slightly, mirroring Sirius's. 

Repeating his previous motion, Sirius shakes his head and stifles a slight moan. Grinning once more, James stands up, grabbing both of Sirius's hands in his.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," smiles Sirius, getting to his feet and starting for the door.

Coming up behind him, James slips his arms around Sirius's waist, his lips finding the back of the taller man's neck.

"… Do you want to make it upstairs, or not?" asks Sirius, though judging from his tone, he doesn't really mind.

"'M hardly doing anything."

"Yes, well, I've spent all day thinking…" Stopping, Sirius clears his throat.

James's response is to let one of his hands slide down, towards Sirius's crotch. Sirius's hips push forward, even as one of his hands darts to stop James's, low on his stomach. " _James_ ," he says, attempting to be stern but coming across as slightly breathless.

"What?" asks James, biting down lightly at a tendon in Sirius's neck.

Sirius shudders. "You really have no concept of how close I am to pouncing, do you?"

James's knee moves forward, pushing at the back of Sirius's leg, indicating for him to move. "What were you thinking about all day?"

"Things I probably shouldn't have been," murmurs Sirius, holding James's hand tight to his body as he starts to walk slowly toward the stairs.

"Like what?"

"Like… the way your lips taste different in the dark… and the way you feel inside me…" James shudders against his back. "And," adds Sirius, turning his head so that his breath brushes James's face, "how much I like it when you say my name as you come."

With a small groan, James eases his grip, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Get a move on."

"What, impatient all of a sudden?" Sirius calls over his shoulder. But he takes the stairs two at a time.

"Bloody tease," James mutters, hot on his heels. 

"You started it," Sirius accuses, heading for his bedroom and, with a glance at James, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Did I?" asks James, slamming the door shut behind him and quickly tugging his own shirt off. He moves to still Sirius's hands, taking over their task.

Deprived of an occupation for them, Sirius sends one of his hands to James's hair, pulling his head in for a kiss, and the other to the front of his trousers. "Who sat on whom, eh?"

"Oh yeah," James grins, pushing Sirius's now unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders.

"Shouldn't do things like that in the living room," Sirius scolds, his fingers tugging down James's zipper.

"Why the fuck not?"

Zipper defeated, Sirius shoves his hand inside James's jeans to stroke him through his boxers. Leaning forward, he sets his lips to James's ear and huskily explains, "One of these days we're not going to make it upstairs."

James's fingernails dig into Sirius's upper arms as his head lolls back a little. "Your point being?"

"What, no complaints about the unsanitary aspects of fucking on my white sofa?" teases Sirius. He closes his mouth around James's earlobe and sucks lightly.

"I thought," James says rather breathlessly, "that we decided it's my white sofa." His hands release their death grip on Sirius's arms, instead tugging on his shirt. 

With a little grunt, Sirius extracts his hands from James's hair and his trousers, letting the other man strip his shirt off the rest of the way. "I'll fight you for it," Sirius challenges, his eyes gleaming hotly. It's debatable whether he's actually talking about the sofa still.

"You can have it," James replies, snaking one arm around Sirius's midsection and pulling him in close, "as long as you don't stop doing that."

"It's no fun if you just _give it to me_ ," Sirius accuses, his hips pushing forward, seeking.

"And here I thought you liked when I give it to you…"

"For that, I should refuse to let you, tonight," Sirius groans, against his neck.

"It's only four in the afternoon," James points out, sneaking a hand down between them to undo Sirius's trousers.

Sirius's breath catches briefly. "Nighttime starts whenever I want it to."

"Is that so," asks James, somehow managing to unbutton Sirius's trousers using only one hand. "Off."

Raising an eyebrow at the order, Sirius backs away a step. Toeing his way out of his shoes — and at the same time his socks, because he is talented — he shoves down his jeans. "Happy?"

"Uh-huh," James grins, sitting down on the bed.

"Well, _I'm_ not," declares Sirius, ignoring the tent in the front of his boxers, which would seem to disagree with his words.

"Really."

"You've got more on that I do," Sirius murmurs reasonably, staying where he is, some distance from the bed. His burning eyes on James, he moves his hand to cup his erection.

James groans in reply, before grabbing at his jeans and shoving both them and his boxers down and off in one go.

Sirius's breathing gets perceptibly heavier. "… _now_ I am happy."

A lazy smile spreading over his face, James looks at him, not saying anything. With a hot sweeping look down James's body — settling eventually on his groin — Sirius groans slightly, and quickly strips off his boxers. As soon as this is completed, his hand returns to wrap around his cock, even as he starts towards the bed, and James.

His own eyes glued to Sirius's hand, James moves further back on the bed, and then leans back on his elbows until his head grazes the headboard.

Sirius sets one knee on the bed next to James, and supporting himself on his free hand, leans forward to growl, "…and you?"

"What about me?" James asks, a little breathless; his eyes not moving from their target.

"Are you still happy?" replies Sirius, his voice deepening on the last word, as he watches James watch him. The fingers around his on cock squeeze slightly, and his teeth catch his lower lip.

"I'd be happier with you over here…"

Sirius smiles wickedly. "Oh?"

"Yeah," James nods, tearing his gaze away finally to meet Sirius's as he licks his lips.

"I would have thought you'd be enjoying the view," murmurs Sirius, eyes darting down to James's mouth. He moves closer.

"Oh, I am." As proof of this his erection twitches slightly.

"Good." Moving so that he's kneeling, half-bent over James, with their faces close together, their mouths only a few inches apart, Sirius lets go of his cock and wraps his fingers around James's. "I'd be offended if you weren't."

James arches up into the touch. "I thought you'd know by now —"

Leaning forward, Sirius catches the rest of James's words with his mouth. For once, James doesn't seem to mind being interrupted mid-sentence.

His hand firmly stroking James's length, Sirius pulls his head back far enough to enquire, "Now, are you happy again?"

"Getting there," is James's reply as he transfers his weight to his right arm, his left hand slipping around to the back of Sirius's neck.

"You're a difficult one." But Sirius is grinning. He tilts his head, trailing kisses down James's face and across his jaw. "Well, what else do you need, then?"

"You're very chatty today, you know that?"

"If you don't like it, shut me up."

In response, James lets his body sink fully towards the mattress, both of his arms coming up to pull the other man down on top of him. Sirius lets go of James's cock, moving to prop himself on both arms, holding the weight of his torso away from the other man. Their hips, however, he leaves in hot, thrusting contact.

"Happiness levels increasing," James informs him, before claiming Sirius's mouth in a rather messy, intense kiss.

In response, Sirius groans into James's mouth, and rocks his hips more quickly. One of James's hands slides down the plane of Sirius's back, coming to rest on the curve of his arse. Sirius transfers his mouth to James's neck, his teeth nipping at the tendons there. James moans softly, his fingers clenching on Sirius's buttock.

Sirius trails his lips up to James's ear. "Is that all you're going to do?" he breaths, kissing the spot where his neck meets his jaw. "Lie there and squirm?"

The noise that leaves James's lips is probably intended to be a scoff, but comes out more like another breathy moan. His other hand joins its mate on Sirius's arse.

"You're such a girl," accuses Sirius tauntingly, his voice breathless. Then he bites James's earlobe.

"Fuck you."

Sirius chuckles, maybe a little darkly, directly into James's ear. "Would you, please?"

"I thought you said you weren't gonna let me, tonight," James says, even as one of his fingers dips into the cleft of Sirius's buttocks.

"As if you ever listen to me when you don't want to," counters Sirius, scattering kisses across James's jaw as he moves his attention back to his mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Nothing." Pushing up with his arms, Sirius lifts further away from James. "Damn it, are you going to fuck me, or not, Potter?"

James looks rather smug. "Eager, are you?" he asks, brushing a finger lightly against Sirius's entrance.

With a small groan, Sirius pushes his already leaking cock against James's. He doesn't say anything.

Grinning, James repeats the motion, adding slightly more pressure this time. "Are you?"

"What, you need me to say it?" growls Sirius. This time he presses his hips in the other direction; upward, toward James's hand.

James's eyes go rather glassy in response to this question.

"Fine," says Sirius curtly, clearly growing impatient with how much he's having to talk to get what he wants. "I _am_ eager. I want you to fuck me — _now_."

"Fuck," James breathes, biting his lip. "Where's the lube?"

"Nightstand," replies Sirius. He disentangles himself from James briefly, crawling off of him and reaching to open the little drawer in his nightstand.

Looking like he's rather appreciating the view this offers, James reaches out a hand for the bottle. Half-turning, but not returning to his position on top of James, Sirius passes the lube to him. He grins wolfishly, his eyes dark.

"What're you doing all the way over there?" James complains as he unscrews the lid.

"Looking at you."

"Looking's not gonna get you what you want."

Knowing the truth of this, Sirius growls softly, and moves to James's side, putting a hand to the back of his head and pulling him roughly forward for a hard, urgent kiss. Kissing him back rather enthusiastically, James's left hand, now slick and slippery, returns to its former position.

Sirius moans, the sound garbled by the fact that James's tongue is in his mouth.

"Happy?" James questions against Sirius's lips, as his the very top of his fingertip dips inside him. Shuddering, Sirius shakes his head. "No?"

"Not…quite."

"What else can I do for you, then?" James breathes, wedging a knee between Sirius's thighs as his finger probes a bit deeper.

Sirius's breathing has become rather erratic. "What d'you fucking think?"

"And here I thought this was a good start," mumbles James, pressing his erection against Sirius's thigh.

"Start," repeats Sirius, contemptuously. He reaches between them to wrap his hand around James's cock. " _Fuck_."

"Tell me what to do, then," is James's reply, sliding his finger all the way in and arching against Sirius's touch.

Sirius's impatience seems to be growing. "I just _did_!"

"You _are_ eager, aren't you."

Sirius replies with a wordless growl, moving to straddle James.

Making a noise that's halfway between a chuckle and a moan, James holds him in place. "Not yet," he scorns, as a second finger joins the first.

Biting his lip, much as he had earlier, Sirius glares at him heatedly. James's response is to curl his fingers slightly. The noise this elicits from Sirius is sharp and needy. "Damn it, James!"

"D'you like that?"

Sirius, who had closed his eyes a moment before, opens them again to shoot James a harsh, melting look of need. "You're a _prat_ ," he grumbles, voice exasperated, as he arches against James's hand.

Scissoring his fingers slightly, James breathes, "I know you do."

Sirius swears loudly.

Capturing Sirius's lips once more, James grabs a pillow with his free hand, placing it behind Sirius's back as he curls his fingers again. "One more?" he asks, thrusting against Sirius's thigh.

" _James_!"

"Hm?"

Leaning forward, Sirius bites James's shoulder. Hard.

"Fucking hell!" With a glare that's mostly aroused and a little surprised, James lets his fingers slip out.

Looking pleased with himself, Sirius releases James's cock. Starting to roll onto his back, he grabs James's shoulders to pull the other man with him. James has no objections to this and follows quite willingly. Spreading his thighs and bending his knees, Sirius wraps his legs most of the way around James. He arches his hips, meeting James's eyes meaningfully.

Biting his lip again, James shoves the pillow underneath Sirius's hips, hand searching blindly for the lube among the covers.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake—"

"Shhh," James says as he locates the missing bottle. "Just a second."

"You're about a thousand seconds behind as it is," Sirius hisses, pressing his hips to James's.

James groans as he works his hand in between them, sliding it over his own cock a couple of times, then brushing it against Sirius once more.

"Enough already!" exclaims Sirius, in a rough voice verging on desperate. His legs tighten around James.

"All right," James says, leaning down for a kiss as the head of his cock replaces his fingers at Sirius's entrance.

Thoroughly fed up with being teased, Sirius grabs James's arse and tugs, at the same time arching his hips upward, effectively impaling himself with James's cock. He moans loudly with relief.

"Fuck!"

Sirius doesn't dignify this over-due exclamation with a verbal reply. He moans again, moving his hips away and then up again. James's hands slip underneath Sirius's back, curling around his shoulders as he meets Sirius's hips with a thrust. A deep growl comes from the back of Sirius's throat. He digs his fingertips into the skin of James's arse.

"Good," James pants as he thrusts again. "Good."

Throwing his head back, Sirius tries to speed up his movements.

"Easy."

Sirius does not seem to care for this suggestion that they take things slowly. He pulls firmly at James's hips, drawing his cock back inside him even faster than before.

"Sirius," James gasps, finally picking up the other man's rhythm. "Oh, sh— like this?"

Sirius nods quickly. His head is still thrown back, exposing the pale column of his neck, the tendons stretched taut and the pulse at the base of his throat pounding wildly. Groaning, James's left hand lets go of Sirius's shoulder, snaking its way down between them. "Fuck, you look hot."

Sirius groans at this, panting open-mouthed as he attempts to draw breath and urge James ever faster, at the same time. His face, neck and upper chest are slowly flushing, and he doesn't exactly look capable of speech.

"So good," James adds as his hand brushes against Sirius's cock.

Sirius arches even further upward, his inner muscles tightening slightly around James's cock, even as he thrusts his own into James's hand.

Groaning, James asks, rather superfluously, "Do you like that?" 

Sirius makes a guttural, affirmative noise.

"I love doing this to you," James breathes, his lips against Sirius's throat. "Love seeing you like this."

"Harder," demands Sirius, between shallow, harsh breaths.

James groans again. "Kiss me."

Turning his head, Sirius does so eagerly. This is rewarded with a quick, hard thrust.

Shuddering, Sirius breaks his mouth away. "Fuck," he gasps.

"Yes," James agrees against his lips. "Fuck, Si, you feel so good —"

Sirius squeezes his eyes shut, bitting his lip. He brings one hand up to tangle in James's hair.

"Wanna make you come, Sirius…"

Sirius's cock leaps in James's hand. "Fucking… _close_ …" he manages to pant.

"Yeah," James groans, speeding up even further. "Feel so good — shit, Sirius, I love you, love you, come on —"

For a heartbeat or two, Sirius's breath continues to come swiftly, and then it suddenly stops altogether, as his eyes fly open and his hands tighten their grip convulsively. Mouth agape, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, his body tenses and, utterly soundlessly, he comes.

James, on the other hand, is still babbling. "That's it — fuck, so good —" as his hand slips from Sirius's spent cock, curling around a thigh as his thrusts become more erratic.

Sirius, his body still shaking from his orgasm, resumes breathing with a shuddering gasp. He slowly tilts his head so he can see James's face, staring intently, the earlier haze of passion already almost dissipated. He closes his mouth, opens it again, but no words escape.

Another few sharp, hard thrusts and James is coming, collapsing onto Sirius's chest with a stream of garbled nonsense flowing from his lips. The hand Sirius has in James's hair instinctively begins moving, petting the back of his head and neck, as Sirius clearly struggles with something. His face has become a bit pale.

It takes James a few moments to recover enough to speak. "I'll move in a second," he mutters against Sirius's chest. "Shit, that was good."

Again, Sirius's mouth moves, but no sound escapes him. Looking strangely uncertain, he tries again. "James…"

"Mmm," James agrees, rolling off of him and onto his side. He regards him with a very satisfied smile. "Hey."

Unable to return the smile, Sirius just twitches his lips, swallows anxiously, and repeats himself. "James…"

Bringing a hand up to stroke the hair off Sirius's forehead — rather tenderly, it must be said — James says, "Yes?"

"Nothing!" Sirius replies too quickly, averting his eyes back to the ceiling. He can only keep them there a moment, however, and is soon glancing back at James.

James blinks at him, his hand remaining in his hair.

Sirius clears his throat. "Er, you said— just now, I mean, you—"

"I know," James interrupts, looking at his hand as it plays with Sirius's hair rather than at his face. After a small pause, "I do."

Sirius goes still and his breathing stops, again. James's face remains carefully blank.

Drawing in a shaking breath, Sirius closes his eyes. "Oh, right," he pauses. "I mean, I know that. That you do."

"I know," James mumbles, fingers still combing through Sirius's hair, brushing against his cheek. "You know that I — I mean, that — that I'm in love with you, right?"

Sirius's breath hitches. Though his eyes remain closed, a few glistening drops of moisture slip from beneath his lashes. "I know. Of course I know," he whispers, striving to keep his voice even, and not really succeeding. "James."

For a few seconds, it looks like James doesn't know what to do. "Hey," he then says, his arm moving down to slip around Sirius's shoulder. "Don't —"

" _James_ ," Sirius repeats more firmly. His eyes open, still swimming with tears, but warm and full of purpose. He makes sure they meet James's, before he continues, voice low and intense, "I love you."

The grin that spreads across James's face is a little surprised, and very, very sappy.

"And I'm in love with you, and I…" But here Sirius's voice fails him, as another few tears seep out the corners of his eyes. He swallows again, thickly, then hurriedly presses his face to the crook of James's neck.

"No need to cry about it," James mumbles, his hand stroking the back of Sirius's head. "I'm not _that_ horrible, am I?"

"Shut up," growls Sirius, the words muffled. He wraps his arms tightly around James.

James presses a soft kiss to Sirius's temple.

Sirius is still for a moment. Then, after surreptitiously attempting to wipe his face on James's shoulder, he pulls his head back, to stare at James. "Anyway," he says forcefully, managing a small smile. "Of course you're in love with me."

"Really," James says, raising an eyebrow at him in stark contrast to the huge grin he's still sporting.

Sirius nods slightly. "Well, why wouldn't you love me? I'm rather awesome, after all."

"And so modest, too."

"Besides," adds Sirius, ignoring James's tone, "It'd be really rude, not to love me."

"Would it," James says, not really a question. "And why's that?"

Sirius smiles disarmingly. "Well, since I love you so much, naturally."

"… who're you, and what have you done with Sirius Black?"

"I'm his touchy-feely alter ego," Sirius replies solemnly. "Sirius is busy recovering; I'll go away again once he gets over having someone to say that to."

James gives a soft laugh, leaning his forehead against Sirius's.

Smiling, Sirius closes his eyes and inhales deeply, apparently basking in… well, James. "Thank you," he murmurs, after a moment.

"Anytime," James replies, leaning in to kiss him.

Sirius returns the kiss for a few moments, before pulling away and awkwardly mumbling, "You rather surprised me, you know."

"Hmm?"

Though Sirius opens his eyes, they don't quite meet James's. "I mean, you kind of just blurted it out, you know, and I didn't really expect—"

"I did not just blurt it out," James protests. "You didn't expect what?"

"You did!" insists Sirius. His cheeks are turning slightly pink. "And I never expected you to say it."

James blinks. "Why the hell not?"

The colour on Sirius's cheeks gets even darker. "Well really, it's not exactly like it's normal for us to do mushy things like talk about our feelings," he mutters, a little defensively. "Besides." His eyes dart, briefly and warily, to James's. "No-one… People don't exactly say it to me a lot."

The somewhat teasing grin fades from James's face, as he tightens his hold on the other man, hugging him tight and burying his face in his neck.

Sirius looks slightly bemused by this reaction to his words. "James?" he tentatively questions, while trailing a warm hand down the man's back. James's only reply is to hug him even harder.

"James…" Sirius repeats cautiously, turning his face to kiss the top of his head. His lips buried in messy black hair, he teases gently, "Why are you impersonating a python?"

"Shut up," James mumbles into his neck.

"Now you're impersonating _me_." There's laughter in Sirius's voice.

Chuckling, James lightens his death grip somewhat, pulling back to brush his lips across Sirius's. 

"Mm." Sirius leans in and kisses him deeply for a moment. Then, smiling, says, "Well, if you're not going to answer my question… I've got a different one."

"What's that?"

Sirius widens his eyes innocently. "Can we have carrot cake for supper?"

James's chuckle turns into a fully fledged laugh. " _That's_ what you're thinking about?"

"You should be glad," Sirius intones righteously, "that your mother didn't bring over a chocolate cake."

"Mmm," James agrees, "or I'd be here on my own while you were busy stuffing your face." He pauses for a second. "That was excellent, wasn't it?"

"Mmm." Sirius kisses him again. "Just so you know, we're coming back up here as soon as I'm done with my cake."

James raises an eyebrow at him. "I feel as though I should nip down to the shop for cigarettes."

"You don't smoke," Sirius points out.

"Mmm. Pity."

Sirius chuckles. "Just keep in mind what my women will do to you if you get me started again."

"I'm keeping in mind what my coach will do to me if I get _me_ started again."

"Please, my women are much scarier than your coach."

"You haven't seen him on Monday mornings," James points out. "Shit, I don't know if I can move."

At this last, Sirius raises his eyebrows. "All right there, mate?"

"Mmm," James grins. "You?"

"I am torn between carrot cake and sleep."

"I have to make dinner," James says somewhat sadly.

"Says whom?"

As though on cue, James stomach gives a loud growl.

Raising his eyebrows, Sirius glances downward. Then he growls back at it.

Grinning, James shoves at Sirius's shoulders. "C'mon."

"You're the one on top of _me_ here, mate."

"Didn't see you complain earlier," James replies, as though he can't quite help himself.

Sirius rolls his eyes. "You've horrid short term memory, James."

"Excuse me?"

"I was actually complaining rather a lot early," Sirius reminds him, shoving at his shoulders gently. He's smiling, though. "Because you had some crazy notion that teasing me would be a good idea."

"Was that what you were saying?" James grins. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

"Prat."

Lifting an eyebrow, James asks, in a slightly more serious tone of voice, "It _was_ good, yeah?"

Sirius gives him a smile so warm it's practically glowing. "Did you know that you ask the stupidest questions?"

"Yes," James nods. "Can I have a stupid answer to go with it, please?"

"If you insist." Still smiling in that absurdly affectionate way, Sirius replies, "My dear James, it was _very_ , extremely good."

James's grin returns, even brighter than before. "Good."

"Now." Sirius kisses him quickly. "Get off me so I can get to the cake."


	26. 12–18 March 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> St. Patty's Day. Also, grave-visiting.

**Monday, 12 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How come you wear your roommate's shirts if they don't fit? And, out of interest; is it too big or too small? /J.P.G.** Dear Jepeg, I wore my roommate's shirt because the alternative was to wear a dirty shirt, charm one clean (which I don't like doing because they always end up smelling funny), or come to work topless. And while I'm sure the majority of my coworkers would have appreciated the view, it's _chilly_ in this office. Besides, it gave me another opportunity to prove to James that my shoulders are broader than his. (Which should answer your second question.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever had any recurring dreams? If so, what were they? /Cassie** Dear Cassie, Well, I dream of running a lot. And of being elected Minister for Magic and having fourteen children. And a few others, all of which vary in the specifics while retaining the same theme... but I somehow don't think you were speaking of _that_ kind of dream. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Can you touch the tip of your nose with your tongue? /Limber** Dear Limber, Yes, actually, I can. (In fact, I just tested my ability to — got a number of odd looks for it.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What kind of goodnight stories did your parents read to you when you were little? My children are 1 and 3 and I reckon it's time I start reading to them at bedtime and I could use some tips! /Craig** Dear Craig, My parents didn't read me goodnight stories when I was little. However, that doesn't mean I don't have a recommendation or two for you. First of all, whatever you chose to read them, _do the voices_. You've no idea how important this is. I can't stress it strongly enough. Second... haven't you ever heard of Beedle the Bard, man? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What, in your opinion, is a good bedtime for a 13-year old? /Tired mother** Dear Tired, That depends. Is your 13-year old a male? Because then I would suggest 10pm. Are they, on the other hand, female? If so, put her to bed as soon as the sun goes down. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Ever since I've been five years old I've wanted to become a popstar. However, my parents won't let me drop out of school to accomplish this! How can I convince them that anything past my fifth year is just a waste of time? /Starlet** Dear Starlet, Clearly, my dear, you haven't taken into account all of the highly interesting spells they teach you in N.E.W.T.-level Charms. Some of which, I might add, could prove incredibly useful in your chosen profession. Therefore, I'd actually have to declare that I don't think sticking around would be a waste of time at all. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Remus would like to point out that you neglected wishing him a happy birthday in advance on Friday. He's sulking so hard he can't even write in himself. It's very tragic. /L PS: Lunch later this week?** Dearest Lils, Clearly, he didn't get my gift yet, then. Besides, it's not as if I go around announcing all of my friends' birthdays in my column, to begin with. At any rate, tell him to cheer up, eat some chocolate, and stop being such a milksop. Sirius PS: As if you need to ask, woman. Indian? Or do you only do that with James? 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you consider your greatest talent? /Eva** Dear Eva, I'm wicked with a wand. (Yes, I mean that literally. No double entendre intended.) I think only Dumbledore and Flitwick can beat me. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the worst detention you ever got and why did you get it? /Missy** Dear Missy, Ouch. I'd prefer not to talk about that, actually, as it was not one of my prouder moments, and in any event, involves three other people… who do not deserve to be discussed in such a manner. Well, most of them don't, anyway. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who's the best shag you've ever had? /Anon.** Dear Anon, The most recent one. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 14 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you listen to any kind of Muggle music and if so what? /Kelly** Dear Kelly, I adore Muggle rock music. Especially if it is really loud. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any sort of extravagant habits? Like only drinking bottled water filtered twice, or never wearing a pair of socks more than once? /Luxurious** Dear Luxurious, Yep! I have the biggest bed I could find; additionally, I have about twelve pillows. And I cast a cushioning charm on the lot of it? I can't sleep in normal beds. And, well, also, I named them. The pillows, I mean. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Somehow I have gotten roped into dressing up in drag for a party. (Don't ask.) I have to wear bright turquoise sparkly clothes, navy blue glittery high heeled boots, and an aqua coloured wig. Problem (well, one of many) is that I can't come up with a name for my drag queen persona. Got any suggestions? /Richard** Dear Richard, An interesting dilemma! Not every day I get one of those. Hm… How about Crystal Waters? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband and I are having our living room redecorated. Do you have any tips on how to choose a good design or theme? We have no idea where to start! /Alice** Dear Alice, Well, don't pick pink. Aside from that, is there a colour, or set of colours, that the two of you both especially like? 'Cause I've always felt that to be a most excellent place for starting decorating problems. Why, when James and I decorated our living room… actually, that's not applicable, as we have no theme, because his father's old chair ruins any we've ever tried. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently had a very dodgy dream (yes, that kind) about my best friend (who is male) and now I am freaking out. I have never considered the fact that I might have those sort of feelings for him, but what else could it mean? What should I do?! /Jessica** Dear Jessica, First of all, dear girl, have you considered the possibility that you were simply — forgive me — horny? Secondly, I don't see how it's necessarily necessary that you do anything. In fact, I recommend that you don't, unless and until you're absolutely convinced that you have "those sort of feelings" for him. Take a few moments to consider it rationally, if you can. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am quite frankly shocked and appalled that you are of the opinion that boys and girls should have different bedtimes! In this day and age I find such an attitude, frankly, medieval and backwards. You seem a very open-minded young man and I would not have expected this from you. /Disappointed reader** Dear Disappointed, … Er. I was joking. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My first boyfriend — let's call him A — and I started going out when I was in my fifth year (he's a year older) and were together until I was 21 (I am 28 now). He then broke it off because he felt "trapped" and wanted to date other people before settling down. About a year later he married a girl who was in his house and his year (they were never close at school) and they now have three children together. Recently I bumped into him at a party and he told me he's been thinking about me a lot and that he misses me. He can't leave his wife as their youngest son is only a few months old, but he suggested us being together in secret until he can sort the thing with his wife out. What do you think I should do? /The first woman** Dear First, Kick him in the balls. Then tell him he's a disgusting piece of garbage for even considering being unfaithful to his wife, the mother of his children, and that you're insulted that he'd imagine you the sort of person who'd be content as "the woman on the side". Then kick him again. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I do not get along with my son-in-law. My daughter refuses to accept this, and has all but cut me out of her life because of it. I haven't seen her or my young grandchildren in nearly five years! What should I do? /Heartbroken grandmother** Dear Grannie, Um. Grovel? And then keep a stiff-upper lip around the son-in-law. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could go back ten years and give yourself a piece of advice, what would it be? /L.B.** Dear L.B., "Pounce sooner, dammit." (Or, well, maybe, "Take him with you, lock him in a closet until he sees the error of his ways, and don't let him talk to your mother anymore. Ever.") Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I know you enjoy watching football. Do you play at all, and if so, are you any good? /Goalie** Dear Goalie, I would, if I could ever find any of my mates who were willing to indulge me. I reckon I'd be decent, since I'm pretty light on my feet. I even dance well. And, I am fast. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 16 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you familiar with a Muggle appliance called a "hoover"? Our Muggle neighbours gave us one as a wedding present and we have no idea what to do with it! It's very strange-looking and blue. /Puzzled** Dear Puzzled, Erm, I'm not entirely sure (even though my dearest Lils has one), but I _think_ it's a hickey machine, actually. All those tubes and things. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the most embarrassing moment of your life? /Keely** Dear Keely, That's a tough one, actually. I think I'll go with my Sorting — which comprises the event itself, and my parents' reaction. Mostly I pick that because I don't let myself get embarrassed anymore! And because I won't talk about the common room incident in sixth year, with the greedy sparkly pink foam. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a sister who's turning twelve next week and I have no idea what to get her! I realise you're not a twelve year old girl any more than I am, but do you have any suggestions at all? /Patrick, 18** Dear Patrick, I don't do lots of shopping for twelve year old girls, either, but I don't mind making a few suggestions. I suppose a pony is out of the question, so perhaps she'd enjoy some sweets and something shiny from Gladrags? Or, I believe Flourish and Blotts recently started selling Shrieking Diaries — available in sixteen colours including puce and aquamarine! Perhaps she'd like one of those? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is there anything you'd never, in a million years, do? Even for all the money in the world, or any other reward you might wish for? /A.B.** Dear A.B., Betray James, or any of my friends. Or eat brussel sprouts. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am Muggle born and my best friend is Pureblood. This has never been an issue and we've been friends since our first year at Hogwarts (we're now in our seventh). However, he's recently revealed to me that he's gay, and I'm having loads of trouble with this. We haven't spoken in the fortnight since he told me about it. I fear I didn't react in a very good way, but I was raised to believe the lifestyle he's chosen is wrong and it's really hard for me to accept this. What should I do? /Anon.** Dear Nony, You say you were raised to believe the lifestyle he's "chosen" is wrong? Just a quick question here — were you also raised to believe that magic existed? I know that might seem unconnected, but if your upbringing was wrong about one thing, what's to say it can't be wrong about another? And in any event, this fellow's your best friend, and has been for years despite that a number of his peers might have objected to it; he deserves more than to be ignored because he told you the truth about something. I think you should talk to him. He's really the only person who can help you decide how you're going to handle this. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Happy St Patrick's Day in advance! What are your plans for tomorrow? /Ruari** Dear Ruari, Well, after a quick stop to say happy birthday to someone, I'm going to be going out and getting smashingly smashed with my best friend. I might even pinch a few people! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever met a vampire? /Anne** Dear Anne, I don't think so, though I've met a few girls about whom I have my suspicions! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could be any animal, what would you be and why? /Tristan** Dear Tristan, I think I'd like to be a dog. Though not the kind that runs around sniffing people in inappropriate places! Just the digging kind. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, "Pounce sooner"? /Curious** Dear Curious, Say rather, pounce on an opportunity it took me too long to realise I had. I second-guessed myself too much, you see. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the one thing, aside from your wand, that you'd never leave home without? /Otis** Dear Otis, James! No, seriously, I don't think there _is_ anything that I never leave home without, other than my wand. Pants, maybe? Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**London, England  
17 March 1984  
7.11 pm**_

Sirius, equipped with a studiously blank expression and a brightly-coloured jumper of a particularly alarming green, apparates at the edge of a modest-sized cemetery, surrounded by a rather impressive wrought-iron fence. James appears a moment later, wearing a large, gaudy green hat one would not immediately (or ever) associate with a visit to such a place.

Sirius pushes open the gate in the fence. His eyes searching out a particular gravestone, near the back, he tightens his grip on the squat, unlit candle in his hand, and starts toward it.

"You sure you're all right with this?" James asks rather softly, following him.

"It's about time, isn't it," mutters Sirius, with a glance over his shoulder at the other man. He continues his slow progress toward the grave.

"Just checking," James replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You sure this is the way?"

"Fairly." As they near the gravestone, Sirius lifts his candle-holding hand to point. "Unless I've forgotten how to read, that _is_ his name…"

James looks rather like he doesn't know what to say.

Sirius pauses, several feet from his destination. He stares at it solemnly.

"Hey," James mumbles, reaching out to brush his fingers against Sirius's.

As if on a reflex, Sirius's fingers reach out and clasp James's tightly. His eyes have not left the gravestone.

"D'you want me to —"

"No." Without letting go of James's hand, Sirius takes another step toward the stone. Then he stops again.

James tightens his hold on Sirius's hand. "All right. Take your time."

Sirius nods to acknowledge this statement, and goes back to staring. After a moment, he clears his throat.

His eyes fixed on the letters on the gravestone, James remains quiet.

"It's just…" mumbles Sirius in a low voice, his jaw tensing. "… I don't know what he'd think. Of my being here."

"Don't be silly," James says softly. "He was your brother."

"That's not saying much," Sirius replies, bitterly. He stares a little longer at the gravestone without speaking, his eyes almost hungrily taking in the words chiseled there. _Regulus Arcturus Black_ , and then a pair of depressingly close together dates. Sirius clears his throat again. "After all, something similar could be said for our mother, and I wouldn't want _her_ anywhere near _my_ grave."

"That's hardly the same thing."

Sirius is silent.

James squeezes his fingers again.

"I'd like to think he wouldn't mind," declares Sirius abruptly, taking another step.

"'Course he wouldn't," James agrees, sounding like he doesn't quite know what to say.

Sirius slants a look at James, and a faint, dry smile twitches the corner of his mouth. "And you, of course, would know, my dear?" he asks wryly.

James gives a small chuckle. "Oh, yes. You know how, er, close we were…"

"Indeed." Sirius's smile spreads to the other side of his mouth, and he turns his gaze back to his brother's grave. "You were at each other's throats the whole time we were at school."

"Not the whole time," James argues. "I mean, first and second year —"

"James, he wasn't _there_."

"Details."

This at least earns a real smile from Sirius, though it is a trifle weak. With a squeeze of James's fingers, he says to himself "Right, then," and lets go, walking the rest of the way to the headstone. James stays a few steps behind, hands shoved into his pockets once more, looking like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

Crouching, Sirius slowly runs the fingertips of his free hand across his brother's name, his smile fading to just a wistful quirk of his lips. "What a thickheaded bastard you were," he whispers, the words catching once or twice in his throat. "So _bloody_ stupid."

Remaining silent, James places a hand on Sirius's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Joining the damn Death Eaters," continues Sirius, his tone growing slightly angry. "Did you think it would never catch up to you?"

"Shh," James whispers. 

Sirius lets his hand drop, the only indiction that he's heard James. He sighs softly. "Why'd you have to be such an idiot, Reg?" he asks the stone, as if it could answer.

James tightens his grip on Sirius's shoulder. Putting his free hand over James's, Sirius reaches out and gently sets the candle he's been carrying at the base of the headstone. He draws his wand, touching tip to wick to light it, and watches the small flame sputter to life. "You weren't supposed to leave Mother with just the bad son," he admonishes the grave, in so quiet a whisper that only he, and maybe James, would ever be able to hear it. "You were never supposed to _die_."

"Sirius…"

Sirius shakes his head swiftly, as if to clear it, and his hand grips James's harder, to silence him. Still holding his wand, he uses two of the fingers on his right hand to trace the first of the dates on the stone in front of him. He sighs again, slightly. "Happy twenty-third birthday, little brother."

"Happy birthday, Regulus," James echoes in a near-whisper.

After another moment staring at the date, Sirius stands, keeping James's hand in his.

"You all right?" James asks, keeping his voice soft but frowning.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," replies Sirius, giving his brother's gravestone one final, regretful look before turning his back on it. He takes a deep breath and offers James a faint smile. "Let's get out of here."

Returning the smile, James gives his hand another squeeze. Squeezing back, Sirius starts for the cemetery entrance. "Thank you, for coming with me," he says quietly. "I really—"

"I wouldn't have —" Noticing the way Sirius has suddenly stopped in his tracks, James trails off. "Si?"

Sirius is staring, with something akin to shocked horror, at the woman who has just stepped through the cemetery gate, a grubby-looking house-elf at her heels.

"Shit," James mutters under his breath as he follows the other man's gaze. "Come on, Si, let's just go —"

Though his mouth has fallen slightly open, Sirius does not otherwise move. Across the cemetery, the woman has by now noticed their presence as well, and she is looking back at Sirius with an expression not dissimilar to his. A choking noise comes from Sirius's throat.

"Sirius," James repeats, tugging at his hand. "Come on, you don't have to talk to her —"

"My _mother_ ," growls Sirius darkly, and though his words couldn't possibly have carried, disgust sweeps both Black faces at virtually the same instant.

"I know," replies James, looking rather worried by now.

The woman half-turns, to bark something at the house elf. The muscles along Sirius's jaw clench.

"Sirius —"

The woman returns her attention to Sirius, her eyes spitting anger, and Sirius abruptly whirls around, putting his back to her. "Reckon we could just apparate from here?" he demands brusquely.

His eyes darting between Sirius and his mother, James gives a curt nod. "If that's what you want."

"Yes."

"All right," James nods, still looking rather concerned. "You first."

Sirius shoots him a sharp glance, but raises the wand he'd never put away. "Right. Meet you outside the Cauldron?"

Nodding again, James says, "Go."

Turning, Sirius disappears with a 'pop!' James chances a final glance at the woman before following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last three Monday, March 12 questions are courtesy of LiveJournal users [sarieva3](http://sarieva3.livejournal.com/), [misanagi](http://misanagi.livejournal.com/), and anonymous, respectively.


	27. 19–25 March 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius surprises James with an unconventional birthday present.

**Monday, 19 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, On a scale from 1 to 10, how attractive do you think you are? Also, do you work out? /Buffy** Dear Buffy, I think I've answered a question like this before! I wasn't very serious about it then... and I'm not going to be very serious about it now, when I say that I am definitely, without doubt, at least a 9. I'm so fine! And I do work out, occasionally. Most of my exercise is of a recreational nature, though. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, During a party recently, I accidentally snogged my mate's girlfriend. We've known each other for a while and I really like her, and she says she really likes me too and is considering breaking up with my mate, let's call him A, to be with me instead. A and I are fairly close, not like best friends but we hang out a lot -- is this okay or should I find someone else? /Mike** Dear Mike, No, it is not okay. (Really, it's not okay that you snogged her, either.) Find someone else. Do not, for any reason, take your friend's girl. Backstabbing is BAD. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm in my final year at Hogwarts and I have a problem. My dad is a Muggle and he'd really like for me to go to Muggle university after I finish school. I have my eyes set on a career in the Ministry and can't see how going to uni would further this, but he won't listen to me. Please help! /Adrienne** Dear Adrienne, What, do you want me to talk to your dad for you? I think you need to consider, before you attempt another conversation with him, exactly _why_ he'd like you to go to university. Is he afraid that, at some point, you're going to want to embark on a more Muggle-ish life? Because if so, even you must surely admit that university might be useful, though if you have no intention of ever doing any such thing it's still quite pointless. Or does he just want you to go university because... it's university and that's what Muggles do? At the very least, considering where he's coming from should help you the next time you try to convince him that it is your life and you're going to live it the way you want to, and that you aren't simply dismissing his concerns because he's only, well, your father. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Just exactly how bad is it to read your sister's diary? /Snoop** Dear Snoop, ...rather bad, actually. Especially if you found out anything juicy. Worse, she will almost definitely at some point figure out what you've done, and then you will be _in trouble_. If I may make a suggestion, I'd recommend confessing. Immediately. While your parents are in the next room. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Name one item of clothing you'd never wear? /Clara** Dear Clara, Mesh shirts. Ick. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm 24 years old and single. I've recently been dating these two guys, and now I'm having trouble deciding which one I want to continue seeing! The first one is around my age, very good looking and makes me laugh and we always have a good time, but he's not very ambitious and doesn't seem to ever think about the future. The other one is in his mid-thirties, very successful and driven and has a fabulous house in the countryside, but not as attractive. They're both very nice men who both seem to like me very much. Who should I pick? /Indecisive** Dear Indecisive, Listen, missy (mister?), I don't care how good looking they are or where they live of how old they are or any of that. (And I don't even care about their careers, unless you're planning on having kids with them and are wondering how the pair of you would support some little rugrats.) The only question I care about is which one you like more — who do you prefer to spend time with? Who do you most often find yourself thinking about, and smiling over, when you're not with them? Which one is it who makes your day a little bit brighter, who leaves you feeling like you could walk on air if you just tried hard enough? _That's_ the one you should keep seeing. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have dark blonde hair and I don't like it, and I'm thinking of either bleaching it or dying it brown. Which option do you think is the best? /Mousey** Dear Mousey, If you must alter yourself, dye it brown, dear. Blondes may have more fun, but brunettes are more interesting. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm ten years old and I really want to grow up to be a professional Quidditch player, but my brother says I can't because I'm a lefty. Is this true? (I play Beater.) /Sean** Dear Sean, Quick, go run and tell your brother he's a moron. Of course lefties can be professional Quidditch players! Lots of good players have been lefties, including my _favourite_ player. James Potter is a lefty. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem! I recently started dating this girl and everything is going really well... except that I can't sleep when she's spending the night! I'm just not used to having another person in bed with me, and it's resulted in sleepless nights while she snoozes away. I have no idea how to solve this problem -- only asking her over in the daytime and making sure she leaves before night isn't a good idea, is it? /Sleepy** Dear Sleepy, ... no, that's not a good idea. I don't suppose you could just tough it out for a little while longer, to see if you do eventually get used to it? If not, well, maybe try explaining the problem to her, and seeing if she minds sleeping on the bed while you take the couch, or something along those lines? I don't know what else to suggest, as I've never had that sort of problem. In fact, I sleep better when I'm not alone. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the worst thing anyone's ever done or said to you? /Casey** Dear Casey, Well, one of my best friends from school ran off and became a spy for the Big Nasty and his DEs, which I thought was pretty f*****g bad of the traitorous scum. Thankfully, the rat and his filthy turncoat a**e are rotting in Azkaban now. The little s**t... Oh, and, er, my Lils likes to steal my lunch? Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 21 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? If so, who? /Alice** Dear Alice, Have you ever read the Muggle classic Pride and Prejudice? The first time I read it I decided I wanted to marry Elizabeth Bennet. Then I thought better of it. I just wanted to date _Lydia_ Bennet. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What if neither of them makes me feel that way? It sounds very time consuming, anyway; I'm not sure I _want_ to feel that way. /Still indecisive** Dear Indecisive, Ah, well, that's your loss then — really, it's quite a fabulous feeling, I swear! Regardless, if you don't have (or want!) that with either of them, then, well, just pick the one you enjoy the most. Or else the one who irks you the least. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why are men so scared of children? I was babysitting last week, and I met this really nice bloke in the park, and then the kid I was babysitting came up to me and the guy ran off before I even had time to tell him it wasn't my child! Ridiculous. Why do you men act like this? /Mona** Dear Mona, I have no idea! I'm sure _I've_ never run from children before. But possibly I can explain this particular case you mentioned. Perhaps this fellow you were talking to did, in fact, assume the child was yours, at the same time assumed you were either married or in some other way taken, and ran off to avoid tempting you into infidelity? Or maybe he was just weak and scared of responsibility. Honestly, who understands some men? Quite a few of them don't seem to have evolved much past neanderthals. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it true that women hate men with hairy chests? I know you've said you don't really have much chest hair, but surely you have friends who are slightly hairier? /Sasquatch** Dear Sasquatch, Slightly hairier? HA! I mean. Yes, I do have some friends with more hair — one friend in particular who is quite, er, beastly. (I'd offer a specific name but then Remus would probably kill me.) Given my knowledge of his love-life (his girl seems quite happy with him), I suppose it's not impossible to believe that some actually women prefer the ape-man look, but I think they're a steadily decreasing portion of the population, unfortunately. Well, not unfortunately for me, but for blokes like R-man, and apparently you. Then there're the gap-bridging "sort-of hairy" fellows, like my best mate, who ought to be appealing to everyone... Or at least, so one would think, logically... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently found out that my 15-year old daughter is seeing a 23-year old man. I've met the young man in question -- they've been dating for about two months -- but she told me he was 18. I only found out about his true age from my daughter's friend the other day. My daughter doesn't know that I Should I allow this to continue? He's a nice enough fellow, but I'm worried regarding his intentions towards my daughter. Please advice. /Worried mother** Dear Worried, First of all, I'd like to commend you not only for your concern, but for not reacting instinctively and immediately forbidding your daughter to associate with the man. Anyone with any knowledge of teenagers could tell you how much THAT wouldn't help. Now, as to what you ought to do... You've said he seems nice enough. Given that, do you have any reason, aside from his age, to think he might have less-than-admirable intentions with your little girl? If you don't, then I think your best course of action would just be to inform your daughter that you've found out her little secret, have a serious talk with her about life and the consequences thereof, and then just keep a wary eye on the situation.— However, if you DO have reason to believe this guy might be scum, I suggest, again, that you have a serious talk with your daughter, in this case to warn her of your fears and your reasons for them. If she doesn't share the same concerns, you might have to back off and let things go as they will... but under _no_ circumstances should you forbid her to continue seeing him, as all that will accomplish is that she'll not come to you if something, Merlinforbid, does come of these suspicions. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever been to Australia? /Kendall** Dear Kendall, No, I never have. Have you? I hear they have bear-eating-trees there! Or, er, tree-eating-bears? Something. Small and grey and bear-like, anyway. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your opinion on the housing system and sorting at Hogwarts? /Anon.** Dear Anon, I think it's rather segregational and irritating, actually. Or possibly not segregational and irritating ENOUGH; I can never quite make up my mind. But I've often wondered if maybe they don't sort too young... but who am I to question anything? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm 14 years old and I have a problem: I'm very shy! I hardly have any friends at school because I am too shy to talk to new people. My older sister is in my house, and I usually hang out with her and her friends, but she's leaving after this year and I'm really nervous about what's going to happen then. Do you have any suggestions on how to be less shy? /Timid** Dear Timid, Oh, dear. I'm afraid I've never been shy, so I'm not entirely sure how one might manage to overcome it. But... How 'bout this, duck? Try practicing talking to other people, by starting conversations with your dormmates. You've had them for a few years, yeah? So they're not _complete_ strangers, even if you don't know them all that well. Even if this doesn't quite get you used to talking to even _more_ other people, it does stand a very good chance of winning you a few friends your own age, who might be willing to help facilitate your assimilation into the peer group of your year. Good luck! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You're fairly famous. Would you ever go out with someone else who was? /K** Dear K, Hm, well, gee, I dunno, I'd have to think about that! ...for all of two seconds. But seriously, it'd really depend on the other fairly famous person. I could probably think of at least one who I wouldn't mind dating... The combined fame doesn't bother me, though, if that was your question. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm the oldest of four sisters who grew up with a single mother, and I recently learned that the reason my dad left us (when I was eight and my youngest sister was just a baby) was that my mother didn't want any more children and he really wanted a son. I'm having a very hard time coping with this. Do you think I should try to contact my father? We haven't spoken in nearly twenty years and I have no idea if he ever had any sons. /Daughter** Dear Daughter, I'm not entirely sure I'd want to contact a man who left because I and my siblings were the wrong gender — who didn't love my family enough to give up a possibly unsatisfying dream — but if that's what you want to do, then I say go for it. I'm also not sure what good contacting him would do you, unless you plan on hexing the daylights out of him. (I would recommend this course of action.) I can understand that you are upset, and rightly so, but I honestly _cannot see_ how speaking with your father would do anything but prompt more questions, or concerns, or whatever. I'm sorry. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 23 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever wanted to be a woman? If so, why? /Virginia** Dear Virginia, For awhile, when I was about twenty, I did wonder — usually while drunk — if I might not have been happier had I been born female. But that was only because I was rather maudlin, at twenty. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who do you think will be the next big British Quidditch star? Any up and coming young players you think are worth mentioning? /Better** Dear Better, If you have to actually _ask_ me that, you obviously don't read my column very thoroughly or frequently. I wouldn't be me if I didn't mention James Potter, and only James Potter, here. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, In a recent reply you stated that it's never okay to date your friends' girlfriends. How about this situation? One of my best friends got divorced after about three years of marriage last year. He's the one who ended the relationship and has since found someone new. I really want to ask his ex out, but I'm worried that this falls under the same category. Should I go for it, or is she off limits? /J** Dear J, Hm. That's more complicated, as she is no longer actually "his" and therefore going after her doesn't instantly equal bad friendhood. On the other hand, he might still have lingering hang-ups or protectiveness about her, though from the situation you describe I'm inclined to just say that'd be his problem. I, myself, do not see how this breaches the friendship code. I don't suppose you've thought of simply asking him if he'd mind? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How many O's did you get on your NEWT's? /Paulette** Dear Paulette, More than James did. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, In your opinion, what's the most important thing to look for in a significant other? /Searching** Dear Searching, Would it be odd of me if I said shared values? Probably. So I will go with a personality compatible with your own. Maybe, as a side order, a sense of humour that doesn't make you want to cringe. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your wand like? /Innu** Dear Innu, Pretty. It is long and hard and, of course, made of wood. I hope you didn't expect details. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've recently been offered a brilliant job that I've wanted for ages and ages. It's truly a once in a lifetime opportunity that I doubt will ever come again. There's only one problem: my would-be-boss specifically stated I must not get pregnant for the first five years of working for him. I will be 30 next year and my husband and I are really wanting to start a family soon. What should I do? /T.B.** Dear T.B., How would I know what you should do? I mean, how on _earth_ do you expect _me_ to be able to tell _you_ whether you'd prefer a career or a family? I don't know you, I don't really know your situation, and I haven't decided if I think it's reasonable of your would-be-boss to make such a stipulation. I'm afraid that's a question you — and your husband! — are going to have to answer on your own. Just remember that a job, even a brilliant job you've waited ages and ages for, is just a job, and a family is, or should be, forever. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, No, really, do you believe in aliens? Why or why not? /Tina** Dear Tina, I believe in the possibility of aliens, because I have no reason not to. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I want to start working out but I hate jogging and weight lifting. Do you have any suggestions on what I can do instead? /Fatty** Dear Fatty, Jump-rope? It burns lots of calories, doesn't require _that_ much space, and is one of the best ways to build stamina and endurance. (Athletic sex is nice, too.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If I splurge on one item of clothing this spring, what should I go for in your opinion? /Fashionista** Dear Fashionista, Assuming you're not interested in a really great set of dress robes... a dress! A nice, flowing, spring-appropriate dress that can also be converted into a summer-appropriate dress, and can be accessorised to fit in anywhere. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**London, England  
24 March 1984  
3.12 pm** _

"Now, James," Sirius says sternly, pausing in front of a set of very official-looking doors and looking seriously at the other man. His hand tightens on James's arm. "I want you to promise me that you will behave for this, all right? It took me a long time to set up."

James looks dubious. "If it's something slimy —"

"It's not the least bit slimy, I promise," Sirius assures him, with a smirk. "Will you be good?"

"Not if it's slimy."

Now Sirius rolls his eyes."It isn't slimy. Just shut up and promise not to do anything bad."

"All right," James says, still not sounding completely convinced.

"Swear."

"Okay."

"Good."

With a smug smile and a satisfied nod, Sirius throws open the doors and hauls a semi-reluctant James through them. Just across the threshold, however, he flourishes dramatically across the room toward a woman sitting in one of three chairs grouped around a low table.

James stops dead in his tracks.

"I hope you didn't mind the wait, ma'am," Sirius addresses her courteously, offering her a smooth smile. "Our other guest took some... convincing."

James just blinks. And blinks.

"Ah, I was just a wee bit bored," the woman says, with a polite smile in answer to Sirius's. "But who is this, then, Mr Black, who took the convincing?"

"James," James manages to finally squeak.

This seems to amuse Sirius. "James Potter," he clarifies, with a very brief look of affection. "My best friend." Using the hand still holding James's arm, Sirius urges him a little closer to the chairs and the woman. "James, I'm sure you recognise Mrs Catriona McCormack. Say hi, like a good boy."

Stretching out a hand that's somewhat shaking, James curtsies. Then goes beet red. Then bows.

Now Catriona seems amused, too. "Ah, I remember you now. Play for the Prides, don't you? Potter — Chaser, yes?"

James nods, dumbly.

"When you find your tongue, James," murmurs Sirius, rather teasingly, "You might want to start talking, since she's only here to talk to you for the next forty-five minutes — all that griping of yours held us up, or we would have had a whole hour."

This causes James to whip around to stare at Sirius, with somewhat overly bright eyes. "You arranged —"

"Rather unconventional interview plan, this," remarks Catriona idly. "I understand you had to talk around a lot of people for it, Mr Black. You must be a huge fan."

"Only casually, I'm afraid, ma'am. But James thinks you're the best thing since Queerditch, so—"

The rest of the sentence never makes it past Sirius's lips, as James has flung himself at his best friend, grabbing his face with both hands and giving him what looks like rather a hard kiss.

"—mmf," escapes from Sirius, apparently rather involuntarily. After a moment of trying to kiss him back and lacking the abililty to match his enthusiasm, Sirius settles for gently pushing James away… while smirking so widely it looks as if his face might break. "Hey, hey, time limit, Potter."

"I love you," James whispers fiercly, giving him another brief kiss.

Sirius's cheeks go slightly pink. "Happy birthday," he whispers in reply, giving James a kiss of his own.

Catriona clears her throat.

James whips back around to face her, a huge, face-splitting smile on his face.

"Your best friend," Catriona repeats ironically, with a laughing look.

"We're very close," James offers, still grinning like a fiend.

"Oh, aye, I snog all my best friends, too," she agrees. She looks pointedly to the other two chairs. "Will you mates be sitting down, then, or were you going to continue my show?"

James immediately plops himself down into one. More slowly, Sirius goes to the other chair, picks it up and moves it closer to the one James is sitting in, and then sits down.

"Go on, James," he urges. "This is your interview."

James turns to look at Sirius, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Mine?"

Sirius grins at him. "Yep."

"Mr Black already completed his half," supplies Catriona, with a look of amusement at the pair. "I was told you'd be the one asking the questions for this wee portion…"

"For the _paper_?" James asks, blinking.

"Yep," Sirius says again, with another nod, his grin turning into a teeth-flashing smile. "Though I'll still be in charge of content control for it, of course. And the people in charge were adamant I do the wireless bit, or else I _might_ have let you do that, instead..."

"Wireless?" James parrots, blinking even more. "You did a _wireless_ bit?"

"What, didn't I mention that?" asks Sirius, looking innocent but sounding rather pleased. "Finished right before I came to get you."

"Apparently somebody reckons this mate of yours has a nice voice," remarks Catriona, rather irrelevantly.

"They've obviously never heard him sing," James grins, turning back to face Catriona. "It wasn't a _live_ wireless interview, was it?"

"How the devil would I have kept _that_ a secret from you?" mutters Sirius, apparently to himself.

"No, it wasn't," Catriona assures him. "They're airing it… tonight, I think?"

"Excellent," James grins. "So… do I get to ask you _anything_ , Mrs McCormack?"

Sirius looks faintly alarmed, though not particularly surprised. "Anything you wouldn't mind your mum hearing you ask," he interjects quickly.

Catriona laughs. "You can ask whatever you like," she assures him, with an expansive gesture. Then she grins. "I just might choose not to answer."

"It'll be like our dinner conversations at home, then," James says, with a quick grin at Sirius. "All right then. Er…"

Sirius's lips twitch.

So do Catriona's, though for different reasons. "You're not going to ask which game was my favourite, are you?"

James, on the verge of speaking, pauses again. Then, after a few moments, he asks, "What's your opinion on the Prides' current line-up?"

"Well, that's refreshing; didn't even wait before you started fishing," Catriona says judiciously. "But I think, altogether, you've got quite a respectable team there."

"You reckon we have any chance of getting the cup?"

"That depends." Catriona raises her brows at him. "You're not about to lose your Seeker, are you?"

"Not unless you know something I don't know," James replies. "… you don't, do you?"

Catriona looks vague. "Just checking. And your Keeper, he's not planning to regress to the way he was playing two season ago?"

"I should hope not."

"Then yes, you just might have a chance," replies Catriona, rather proudly. She pauses, glances thoughtfully between the two men, and then adds, "Though you ought to look out for Kenmare."

"Bloody Kestrels," James mutters. "Thank you, ma'am; that is a huge compliment coming from you."

Catriona nods graciously. "You're welcome. It's a compliment you deserve; you're not at all a bad Chaser, for such a young lad."

Sitting quietly in his chair on the other side of James, Sirius beams at her. James's grin is so wide that it nearly looks painful.

"That's like Merlin showing up and calling him a decent hand with a spell. — Be careful, ma'am, or you'll swell his head," cautions Sirius cheerfully.

Ignoring this, James asks, "And how have you found the Quidditch season so far?"

"Infuriating," confesses Catriona. She grins. "I rather want to teach those Harpies a lesson."

"You and me both," James nods, still wearing that enormous grin. "Do you often watch the games, then?"

"As often as I can!" She laughs, and then reaches up to pat something pinned to the front of her robes. "Never miss a Portree match, if I can help it."

"Well, who does?" James states. "Now. You have children, correct?"

"Indeed."

"Do any of them have Quidditch ambitions?"

Catriona nods. "My daughter, Meaghan. Wants to Keep."

"For the Prides, I assume?" James asks, grinning. "She any good?"

"Of course for the Prides!" exclaims Catriona feelingly, though her eyes are twinkling. "And she's my daughter. Of course she's good."

James laughs. "Brilliant. When can we expect to see her on the team, then?"

"Not for some time yet, I don't think…"

"Well, whenever she's ready, just let us know and we'll kick Roan off to make room for her," James offers.

Catriona laughs. "I might actually tell her you said that!"

"… how old is she, exactly?"

" _James_ ," protests Sirius, somewhat sternly.

"Kidding," James says quickly, glancing over at Sirius. "Really. Um. Now. Before you were playing professionally, did you have any players you looked up to?"

"Merlin, you expect a woman to remember that far back?" laughs Catriona, with a rather indulgent sort of smile.

"Ah, you're not _that_ old," James offers. The second the words have left his mouth, his face turns bright red. "I mean —"

Catriona laughs again. "I'm old enough, I think, lad."

"Indeed," agrees Sirius, stepping into the conversation with a laugh of his own, and an affectionately amused look at James. "I, for one, certainly think you've earned the right for a bit of selective forgetfulness, ma'am."

James looks rather like he wants to punch himself in the face a bit, as he nods sheepishly. "Er. Do you often visit Skye these days, Mrs McCormack?"

"Occasionally," admits Catriona, again patting the item pinned to the front of her robes — which, when she moves her hand, is distinguishable as a shiny Pride of Portree emblem. "I like to sneak over and watch the team practice sometimes, or just take a wee wander through Portree. Helps with the nostalgia."

"It's a lovely town, isn't it," James agrees. "Sirius finds it a bit drab, though."

Sirius makes an indignant noise, hastily smothered.

"Well, he's a London lad, isn't he?" Catriona says reasonably. "And Portree is… rather smaller than London."

"He doesn't like what the climate does to his hair," James says in a would-be-whisper.

"Now _that's_ not fair!" protests Sirius quickly. "I don't like what the climate does to _your_ hair."

Catriona just gives them a look expressive of how entertaining she finds them.

"… I don't think there's any climate on earth that could tame my hair, Si."

"I don't _want_ it tame," counters Sirius, with a long, heavy look at the black mess on the top of James's head. Then he transfers his gaze to James's eyes, and smiles somewhat wolfishly. "I just want it to not take over your head _too_ completely."

"I think that's the wind and not the climate," James replies, biting down on his lower lip a little at the look on Sirius's face.

"Isn't the wind part of the climate?"

"Yes, well, but when you're flying —"

"It's even when you're not flying, James."

Catriona seems to have been temporarily forgotten but doesn't appear to mind. She clasps her hands in her lap, lacing her fingers together, and settles more deeply into her chair. She glances repeatedly between the two young men, a noticeable twinkle in her eyes.

"Yes, well, we can't all be perfect," James says, glancing back at Catriona. "Terribly sorry, Mrs McCormack."

"Oh, that's perfectly all right. I don't mind in the least," she replies easily. The smile she sends him is slightly, wryly teasing. "If your _best mate_ looked at me like that, I'd get distracted, too."

James blushes a little. Sirius just looks smug, and throws another of those looks at James.

"… so, if I let you two keep this up, will there be more of that pouncing I witnessed earlier?" Catriona enquires politely.

"No," James replies, blush deepening slightly. "Behave yourself," he adds, giving Sirius a sideways look.

"You're the one who started it," Sirius reminds him, meeting his eyes with a hot look in his own.

"Don't make me send you out into the hallway."

Sirius smirks. "You couldn't."

"He's the reason you get to be here," Catriona points out.

"Shh," James says, turning his attention fully back to Catriona. "So, during the match against Ballycastle on the 8th of May, 1963 —"

"Oh, Merlin's mother," mutters Sirius, his expression transforming to one of resignation, as he directs his gaze to the ceiling.

"— when Carlisle made that save —"

Catriona stares at him. "… I think you may remember my games better than I do," she declares, sounding rather bemused.

"Oh."

Sirius is shaking his head slowly. "Greatest thing since Queerdicth," he repeats softly to himself, but his voice is fond.

"I'm sorry," Catriona says kindly, apparently a little amused by the crestfallen look on James's face. "Mayhap if you were a wee bit less obscure...?"

"Oh, well," James says, running a hand through his hair. "It was on their turf and you were down 160-40…"

"Yes..." agrees Catriona slowly.

"And Carlisle performed this _brilliant_ save —"

"What about it?"

"Was that something she'd rehearsed, or improvisation?"

"… Honestly, Mr Potter, I'm afraid there probably isn't a person on the planet who could tell you that."

"No?"

"I certainly couldn't," confesses Catriona, and she actually looks regretful. "And even if Carlisle could have, I believe she's since had a stroke."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," James says. "She was a brilliant Keeper."

"Yes." Catriona smiles wistfully. "And hilarious, as well."

"Yeah?" James asks with a small grin of his own. "Chris is the funny one in our team. Reckon every team has one?"

"I pity the team who doesn't!"

"I bet Kenmare doesn't…"

Catriona's eyebrows rise slightly.

"James hates the Kestrels," Sirius supplies quickly. He smiles at his friend.

"I don't — yes, yes, I do," James admits. "… that's not going in the paper, is it?"

Sirius looks slightly offended. "All the times I've listened to you abuse them, and you think _now_ I'm going to start talking about it?"

"Just checking. I think their Beater has it in for me as it is, you know."

"Yes, James, I know," Sirius assures him solemnly.

" _Huge_ bloke," James says, turning to Catriona. "Arms the size of a log."

"Dreadful!!" Catriona exclaims, obligingly appalled. "Why does he have it in for you, then?"

"We were at school together," James says, as though that explains everything.

" _Not_ in our house," Sirius adds.

"Ah, I see," nods Catriona understandingly. "There was a player like that — without the logs for arms, of course — when I was starting my career, as well. She joined the Arrows, if I remember correctly, but thankfully retired a few years later."

James narrows his eyes. "Addison Cusack?"

Catriona stares at him.

"Er."

"I'm not even going to ask how you knew that," she eventually announces.

"Good," says Sirius, suddenly brisk. "Because I've just looked at my watch, and we're almost out of time."

"That was _not_ forty-five minutes," James protests.

"I said almost, dear."

James looks rather sulky.

"We'll have to do this again sometime," offers Catriona, taking pity on James.

"Do we?" James quickly asks. "I mean, it would be a great honour."

Sirius says nothing.

Catriona smiles.

James grins back at her in a slightly goofy way. "So… back in the season of '63, during that lockout —"


	28. 26 March–1 April 1984

**Monday, 26 March 1984**

* * *

**I'm 16 and Muggleborn, and my mum is getting married to this bloke who has two daughters around my age. I've never met them but am going to during the holidays, and I was wondering if you have any suggestions about what we could do together? /Fiona** Dear Fiona, I'm assuming these girls are Muggles? How about going to the cinema, or... what is it girls like to do? Makeovers? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever considered writing a book? /M** Dear M, What kind of book do you have in mind? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I heard you on the Wireless this weekend! You have a very nice accent. Where are you from? Have you considered doing any more Wireless work? /Tricia** Dear Tricia, Why, thank you! I'm from London, and certain people tell me that it shows in my accent. As for more work on the Wireless, well... It's a possibility, I guess. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My son is four years old and in preschool. He recently told me that one of the girls in his class has beaten him on several occasions and that he's really frightened of her. I get along really well with the mother of the child in question -- what should I do? I hate to see my little boy looking so scared when I drop him off! /Bad mother** Dear Bad Mum, If you get along with the girl's mother, I would suggest you talk with her, expressing your concerns and disapproval (gently, of course) of her daughter's actions. It is normally not someone's place to tell another person how to parent their child, but under the circumstances, you have every right to "interfere". If this doesn't work, ask her if she minds if you have a word with the little girl, and try to convince her that hurting others for no reason is wrong. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you and your brother get along well? Is he older or younger than you? /B.** Dear B, My brother is dead. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. I'm in Slytherin and I sort of fancy this girl, only she's in Hufflepuff and a half blood. All my mates will think I'm ridiculous if I ask her out. What should I do? /Snake** Dear Snake, Screw your mates and their ridiculous, prejudiced ideas about ridiculousness. Ask her out. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband and I have been married for nearly three years and had a wonderful little baby girl two months ago. The problem is that I haven't lost all my baby weight yet, and my husband is telling me that if it's not gone by the time summer rolls around, he's leaving me. Do you have any dieting tips? Or excercises I can do while taking care of my baby? /Fatty** Dear Fatty, ... How about boxing your husband about the ears? I don't hold with proper dieting (although portion control, and cutting back just a bit here and there on everything you eat, might help) and am afraid I can't think of any exercises, off the top of my head, that wouldn't interfere with caring for your child, at least a little. Maybe you can let your husband watch your daughter for an hour or so in the evening, and go jogging? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I was widowed about five years ago, after many years of marriage, and have been single ever since. I have now met someone I think I might want to spend the rest of my life with -- the only problem is, the man in question is my son's father-in-law! He's been divorced for ages so that's not a problem, but do you think it will be hard for our children and grandchildren to accept? /Meredith** Dear Meredith, While I can appreciate your desire to find someone to spend the rest of your life with, and your delight at having done so, I do have to say that I expect it'll probably take awhile for everyone to adjust to this development. That isn't to say I don't think you ought to go for it. Just be prepared for being accused of "weirdness" and other unpleasantness. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Aside from the Potter family letting you stay with them, what's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for you? /Positive** Dear Positive, Well, since Not-Mum and Not-Dad practically adopted me, and their son has been the best friend I could ever imagine... I don't think anything else could ever even close. That's really all I can come up with for this sort of question. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm getting married and June and I can't decide who I want to give me away: my real father or my stepdad. My dad didn't raise me, but we've always had a good relationship and we get along really well. My stepdad has helped raise me since I was three years old and has always been there for me. Neither of them has any other daughters. Who should I pick? /Bride with two daddies** Dear Bride, If it's not possible to have them both walk you down the aisle, then I suggest you pick the man who deserves the honour the most — in this case, your stepdad, as it sounds like he's been more of a father than your biological one, and it's the father of your heart who ought to be so rewarded. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 28 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think there's ever an excuse for cheating? Is it always unforgivable? /Dottie** Dear Dottie, No, there isn't, and yes, it is. Cheating is a betrayal, and that is never, _ever_ okay. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you think is a good age to get married? /Spinster** Dear Spinster, Whenever you're certain that you will never, ever want (or want to be around) another person, for the whole rest of your life, more than you do your significant other. I really don't think you can put a specific age on it. You might be fifty — you might be fifteen. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be and why? /Julian** Dear Julian, What, any thing? Regardless of actual possibility or practicality? I'd like to spend less time away from James every day. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. My big brother was really brilliant at school -- finished with only O's and E's and was Head Boy -- and I'm a lot more mediocre. I feel as though I'm a complete letdown to my parents, even if they've never mentioned it. What should I do to become more like him? /Ed** Dear Ed, Ouch. I think I gave my little brother that same problem, to some extent — having no older siblings, the best advice I can give you is to do things in whatever way makes you happy. If your parents can't love you and appreciate you for the way _you_ want to be, then it's unfair to you to spend your time trying to please them. If you don't want to expend the effort to really do well at school, then don't; you're bound to find something else that you'll enjoy being good at more, later on. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm male, single, in my late 40's. Recently I've been seeing this lovely woman who I think really likes me back. Problem is she's only in her mid-twenties -- am I a dirty old man for being involved with her? I'm afraid my friends will think it's just a mid-life crisis. /Perv?** Dear Perv, As long as _you're_ sure it's not a mid-life crisis, and you genuinely like this woman and she genuinely likes you, then I say screw what other people will think, go ahead and be happy. Age is just a number, anyway. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your opinion on the term "Mudblood"? /Anon.** Dear Anon, It is a stupid, wrongly derogatory term that makes my blood boil. Generally, I loathe and despise it with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. Do not _ever_ use it to refer to someone I care about or I will hex you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you know if you're in love? I'm dating this bloke and I really like being with him and I like going on dates and all that, but what if I'm really just in love with the feeling and not with him? Is there any way of telling? /Confused** Dear Confused, Well, can you imagine feeling that way about anyone else? Ever? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any suggestions on how to get a hold of cigarettes during the school year? /Smoker** Dear Smoker, I don't know if he's still around, but there used to be this older fellow who'd lurk around the Hog's Head during Hogsmeade weekends, and for a price he was willing to procure students just about _anything_. Just ask around for "Elvendork". Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have been married for nearly ten years and have three gorgeous children. However, lately my husband is showing little to no interest in being intimate with me anymore! Instead he spends hours every evening with his best (male) friend -- do you think the two of them might be having an affair? Most of the time they're over here, and I haven't noticed any dodgy business, but sometimes he stays after I go to bed. What should I do? /Evie** Dear Evie, First, I've a question. Do you have any reason, besides his lack of interest in intimacy with you, to suppose that he might be turning his attentions to his (male) best mate? Because not all best friends, of the same or opposing genders, think about sleeping with each other just because they temporarily lose interest in their spouse or significant other. Maybe you're only imagining things because he's been neglecting you? I suggest asking him if there's a problem between the two of you — without mentioning his friend! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have such a sweet tooth and it's not very good for my figure! Do you have any suggestions as to how I can stop snacking so much? I've tried eating fruit and nuts when I get the munchies but it's not the same. I can eat six apples and still crave chocolate just as badly! Do you know of anything that actually works? /Chocoholic** Dear Chocoholic, ...No, unfortunately. I've never, ever been able to resist chocolate. I don't think I'm the best person to ask about this, sadly enough. But I guess, maybe, just ration yourself? Only so many pieces a week, or something... Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 30 March 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband of fifteen years and I are in the process of getting a divorce. It's pretty friendly, as far as divorces go, but the problem involves our oldest son. (We have three children, aged 11, 13 and 15.) He believes my husband is his biological father, but I was already pregnant with him when we first met. His biological father didn't want anything to do with him or me and has never met him, although I do know how to contact him. Should my husband and I tell our son about this, or should he remain ignorant? /Worried mum** Dear Worried, If your (soon-to-be ex-)husband has been this boy's father for his entire life — and fifteen years is a goodly stretch of time, at that — and you haven't seen a need to tell him so far, then I don't see why the fact you're getting a divorce ought to change anything. Your husband is still willing to act as his father, isn't he? And his biological father — not, of course, that I'd think he had the right, anyway — still wants nothing to do with him, doesn't he? And the boy still needs a father of some kind, doesn't he? (That one was rhetorical.) What purpose would telling him serve? Other than to upset him, of course, because his real father's a shmuck-y bastard and the man he's be led to believe was his father is, in fact, NOT related to him at all... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How long should you be dating someone before telling them you love them? /Nova** Dear Nova, Until you mean it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any really embarrassing memories of a sexual nature? /A.** Dear A., Of course I do, everyone does. (What, you weren't expecting me to _share_ , were you?) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have the biggest crush on Mercedes Atkinson of the Kenmare Kestrels. Do you know if she's seeing anyone? If not, could you introduce us? /Harley, 18** Dear Harley, I'm terribly sorry, mate, but I believe she's happily committed to her dog— I mean boyfriend, a fellow Kestrel. Even were she not, I'm afraid that it would be unprofessional of me to perform that sort of introduction. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why is okay for parents to dress little baby girls in blue, but not to dress baby boys in pink? /Wondering** Dear Wondering, ... there's something wrong with dressing boys in pink? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My girlfriend is really gorgeous, but she refuses to go outside without makeup. She won't even run down to the cornershop without caking it on! The only times I see her au naturel is when she wakes up in the morning and even then she tries to hide her face from me. How can I make her see she's beautiful as she is? /Lipstick Addict's Boyfriend** Dear L.A.B., Cover your face in soot, or boot black, or that white stuff clowns use, then ask her if she thinks you look good like that. If this doesn't produce the desired effect... Go on strike. Or take all her makeup and bury it. Or both. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you saying you can only be in love once in your life? Because I've been in love loads of times. In fact, I've loved all my wives and I just married my fourth! /Serial monogamist** Dear S &M, ... Yeah. I'm not saying you'll only be in love once in your life. Rather, I'm saying that if you love someone, you don't _want_ to love anyone else, ever; you want to spend the rest of your life with them. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend and I have been dating for a while and I am ready to take things to the next level. How do I let him know? /Sarah, 17** Dear Sarah, Showing up naked in his bed is usually a good idea, for that. (D'you know which dorm/bed is his?) Guys tend to not misunderstand such an action. What also might work is cornering him and saying, "I want to shag you until your brain overheats and runs out your ears to lie in a puddle of well-sexed-boyfriend at my feet. Then... I want to do it again." Also hard to misinterpret. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could look like anyone else in the world -- and you couldn't look like yourself -- who would you pick and why? /Brennan** Dear Brennan, Madam Rosmerta. Because then mirrors would be my friends. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been thinking about piercing my nipples. Should I? /Alexia, 39** Dear Alexia, Ow. Just... ow. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Imogen Potter's Residence  
Minehead, Somerset  
30 March 1984  
9.46 pm**_

"Thank you so much for coming, Godmother Juniper," James says, bending down nearly a foot to plant a kiss on a rather wrinkly cheek. "And thank you again for the lovely set of coasters."

"Oh, you're welcome, son," replies the woman, in a slightly reedy voice, smiling up at him. "I had a lovely time."

"We'll see you soon again," James says, rather louder than one would expect. "Have a safe trip home, now."

The woman continues to smile up at him. "Of course, of course. And you and Sirius come by for tea one of these days."

"We will, Godmother Juniper."

"Such a charming boy, your friend. I do like him," murmurs the woman, while nodding. She pats his shoulder, which is as close as she can reach to his cheek. "Happy Birthday, son."

James grins as his mother gives Juniper a farewell hug, and a chorus of "Bye, Miss Greene" echoes around the room.

The little woman, even smaller than Imogen, waves cheerfully at everyone. Just before she toddles out the door to Apparate away, she adds, "And say goodbye to Sirius again for me!"

Shaking his head as the door closes, James mutters, "Why do they all like him better than me?"

"I haven't the foggiest," a voice pipes up at his shoulder.

James raises an eyebrow at his fellow Chaser. "Shocking, Chris."

Christine shrugs. "Well, really, just because he's about twice as fit as most blokes…"

"Oh, don't _you_ start, too," James complains. "This is _my_ party!"

"You can't deny he's good looking," Christine points out, grinning. "And besides, I wasn't invited to _his_ party."

"Neither was I," Lily points out from where she's sitting, squashed between Remus and Mary MacDonald. 

"I wasn't, either," chimes in Remus, shooting a faintly accusing look at James.

"I didn't even know he _had_ a party," Imogen declares, and the look of accusation she sends at her son isn't the least bit faint.

"He didn't," James says, shaking his head. "Or if he did, _I_ wasn't invited either."

Christine looks bemused by the conversation she started. "Would he do that?"

"What, have a party without James?" asks Mary, who seems amused.

"No," James says, sounding very sure of himself. "Where the devil is he, anyway?"

Imogen smirks a little at James's response. The accusation has disappeared from her face as if it was never there. "I don't know," she replies. "Wasn't he here when Juniper left?"

"I think he wandered off mumbling something about going to the loo," remarks Stuart, from across the room, where he is talking to the other of James's Chaser teammates. "But that was more than fifteen minutes ago."

Christine rolls her eyes slightly. With a glance of significance at Cliodhna, sitting near Mary and the group on the couch, she innocently asks, "Is there something shiny between here and there?"

"What, like a mirror?" returns Remus immediately, with his own attempt at thoughtful innocence.

Shaking his head, James stands. "You're all horrible," he states, "and I am going to go upstairs and pry him away from mum's vanity table."

Imogen smiles, her eyes twinkling. "Good luck, dear."

"You might need it," adds Remus, earning a slight smack on the arm from Lily.

Pausing to make a face at Remus, James exits the room and heads upstairs. Finding the hallway deserted, he calls out, "Si?"

After a slight pause, an answering voice comes from James's old bedroom, calling, "Yeah, James?"

The door is partly open, though the room does not appear to be especially well-lit.

"… what the hell are you doing?" James asks, pushing the door open and blinking at the lack of light.

The lamp on the night stand is lit, Sirius's wand sitting next to it. Sirius himself is sitting at an angle on the side of the bed, mostly facing the headboard, with one calf tucked under his other thigh. His right hand is resting flat on the pillow. "Nothing," he says, turning his head to face the doorway, but otherwise not moving.

"Nothing, huh?" James says, closing the door behind him. "People are starting to wondering where you are."

"People, or you?" returns Sirius, slowly retrieving his hand from the pillow. "I was up here thinking, that's all."

"Thinking about what?" asks James, sitting down next to him on the rather thin mattress. "And I'm people too, y'know."

"Mmhm." Sirius briefly returns his gaze to the pillow, now empty. Then he looks around the room, lingering on the closed door.

"… what?"

"Yes, I know you're people." Sirius shifts, pulling his leg from under the other and putting his foot on the floor, as he turns toward James.

James raises an eyebrow at him.

"What?" asks Sirius, though he still looks rather distracted, as he has since James found him.

"Why are you sitting in my old bedroom in the dark?"

"Not completely in the dark." Sirius chuckles softly. "And I already told you — I was thinking."

James pokes his thigh. "Thinking about what?"

A smile starts to spread across Sirius's face. "When we lived here."

"What about it?" James asks, grinning too. "You're not gonna start complaining about my cooking skills again, are you?"

"No," Sirius assures him solemnly, voice serious despite his smile. "About how intimidating this room used to be."

".... intimidating," James repeats, in a voice that clearly showcases how ridiculous he finds this statement.

Sirius nods. "Yes. Especially in the dark. After you'd gone to bed."

"You've lost me."

"I don't know how many nights I stayed up, thinking about it. About you in it," Sirius says. He lifts the hand that was recently on the pillow, to trace James's lips with his fingertips. "In this bed…"

James's breath catches a little. "You didn't really," he says, lips brushing against Sirius's fingers as he speaks. "Did you?"

"Of course I did." Though Sirius's voice has dropped, it is still firm. "All the time. You lying here, your head on that pillow, all rumpled and sleeping… I always used to wonder what would happen if I just crossed the hall and jumped you."

"I'd probably have had a heart attack and died," James says with a small grin. "… really?"

"Yes." Sirius nods again, moving his hand to cup James's cheek. "Though I probably would have lost my nerve at the last second, anyway, and told you that I woke you up to raid Not-Mum's kitchen, instead of because I wanted to snog you."

"… wait, is that what all our midnight kitchen runs at school were about?"

Sirius shakes his head quickly, his expression something between amusement and the tenderness of a moment before. "No, no, _those_ were just me not wanting to die of starvation."

"Ah," James chuckles.

Sirius chuckles, too.

Still grinning, James leans in to kiss him.

Returning the kiss eagerly, Sirius transfers his hand from James's face to the back of his neck.

Seemingly forgetting why he came upstairs in the first place, James turns more fully towards the other man, leaning in even closer as he deepens the kiss.

Sirius moans softly, snaking his other arm around James and leaning in as well. Answering with a moan of his own, James transfers his hands — and his weight — to Sirius's shoulders.

"Mmf," grunts Sirius, falling back and dragging James down on top of him. Breaking the kiss to drag his lips along James's neck, he whispers, "Merlin, I've always wanted to do this."

"What?" James whispers back, his feet hanging off the side of the bed.

"Snog you in here."

"Why?" asks James, grinning a little as he pulls himself fully onto the bed, snaking a hand under Sirius's back as the other one travels up from his shoulder to his cheek.

Sirius laughs a little, moving so that he's completely on the bed as well, with James lying on top of him. "Why _not_?" he returns.

"You've never showed any interest in snogging me in my room back at our house, for one."

"There are better places to snog you there."

"Is that so," James says, not really a question, still grinning even as his gaze turns darker. "Used to think about me in here, did you?"

Sirius squirms a little underneath him. "Merlin, yes."

James pushes down with his hips slightly. "What did you think about?"

Sirius laughs again, breathlessly, as his arms tighten around James. "Things like this."

Leaning down to brush his lips against Sirius's lightly, James murmurs, "I had a dream about you once, in this bed…"

"Fuck, only one?" gasps Sirius, pressing his hips upward.

James moans, the hand under Sirius's back travelling south until it's resting against a buttock. "I'm surprised you didn't notice me blushing when I saw you the next morning."

"I was probably too busy pretending I hadn't spent all night thinking about _you_ ," says Sirius, pressing more kisses to James's neck. After a short pause, he asks, "The fun kind of dream, then, was it?"

"Aye," James replies, closing his eyes. "Definitely fun."

"… How fun?" Sirius asks, punctuating the words with a swift little nip at the spot behind James's ear.

"Not as fun as last night…"

Sirius smirks. "You had help with last night."

"Yeah," James agrees, his voice rather breathy. "Sirius —"

Moaning, Sirius catches James's lips with his own.

Pulling back a few moments later, James mutters, "We should go back downstairs —"

"Not yet," objects Sirius, rocking his hips upward. "A few more minutes?"

" _Shit_."

"Just a few," Sirius adds, moving his hips again. James's response is to kiss him again, moving his hips to meet Sirius's.

Sirius moans again, his hands fisting around the material of James's shirt, his tongue tangling desperately with the other man's.

James is so busy matching his intensity that at first he doesn't react at all to the sound of Lily's voice, calling out both their names. Sirius himself does nothing but mutter "Fuck," against James's lips, and pull him closer.

"Oi," Lily says, sounding rather close-by. "Are you in —" The rest of her sentence trails off as the door opens.

"Fuck," Sirius repeats, more quietly, without moving.

James, however, is scrambling to dislodge his arm from underneath Sirius.

Obviously reluctantly, Sirius shifts to make it easier for him, then lets him go and scoots a little away as he sits up. Looking toward Lily, he clears his throat.

Lily stares at them for a moment. Then, in one fluid motion she closes the door, turns on the overhead light, and exclaims, "Well, _fuck me_."

"I'd rather not, actually," mutters Sirius, with a sideways glance at James, apparently not the least bit embarrassed.

James, however, is a fetching shade of scarlet. "Er," is all he manages.

"Were you looking for us, Lils?" Sirius asks, a little too loudly. He reaches over and attempts to flatten the other man's hair a bit.

Lily's eyes are rather wider than usual. "I think I need to sit down," she finally says, leaning against James's rather messy desk.

A look of amusement crosses Sirius's face briefly. "… it wasn't _that_ bad," he mutters, to James. "Was it?"

James just blinks at him. "Shit, Evans, I'm sorry —"

"When did _this_ start?" Lily interrupts.

"What do you mean?" asks Sirius, with a slightly exasperated look at James for his attempted apology.

" _This_ ," Lily repeats, motioning between the two of them. James scoots a little further away from Sirius. "When did _this_ start, Sirius?"

"Yes," Sirius replies, straight-faced, "I got that. But are you talking about the snogging tonight, or in general?"

" _Sirius_."

" _Lily_ ," returns Sirius, mimicking her tone exactly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm wondering how angry I should be about being kept in the dark," Lily replies, deadpan.

James covers his face with his hands.

Sirius appears undaunted by the implied threat. "Hopefully not _too_ angry. I'd really prefer you be happy for us."

Lily blinks at him for a moment, before a wide grin spreads across her face. "Oh my God," she says, smile widening even further. "You're really —"

"Yeah. Yes." Sirius is unable to hold back his own grin while admitting to it. "We are."

Letting out a noise not unlike a squeal, Lily crosses the room, sitting down between them on the bed and throwing an arm around both of them. 

"I thought you said you were going to be angry at us," Sirius points out, still grinning, and while putting an arm around her as well.

"Oh my God," Lily repeats, ignoring Sirius's remark. "I never thought you'd actually… this is so…"

James removes the hands from his face, still looking rather embarrassed, but smiling.

"…hot?" Sirius offers teasingly.

"Si!" James protests, as Lily laughs.

"You are, though," insists Sirius. "And so am I."

"Hot works, actually," Lily says, still laughing, "even if I was going more for something along the lines of 'unexpected'."

"… Unexpected?" Sirius actually looks rather surprised. "But you're the one who told us we ought to be shagging."

".... you're _shagging_?"

Sirius glances across her at James. "Not right now," James mutters.

"Maybe if you'd waited five minutes…"

Lily laughs again, shaking her head. "God, this is weird."

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Why?"

"It just is!"

"It's less weird than you and Remus!"

"Well, Remus and I have been weird for years," Lily argues. "… really, when did this start?"

Chuckling at her, Sirius asks, "Is it important?"

"'Course it's important!" Lily insists, elbowing him gently. "… was it the McCormack interview that did it?"

"Lily!"

"No!" James insists, sounding rather insulted. "How cheap do you think I _am_ , Evans?"

"James!" protests Sirius, rounding laughingly on him. "You know you'd probably even shag your coach if it got you —"

"Oi!"

"Kidding!"

Lily looks very amused.

Turning away from the indignant expression on James's face, Sirius smiles at Lily and says, "No, it wasn't the interview. Actually, we ought to thank you—"

"You're welcome," Lily says immediately. "… why?"

"Because," says Sirius. "It was you that did it."

"Lily?" someone calls from the hallway.

"In here, baby!" Lily replies, as James opens his mouth to protest.

The door opens promptly. "What are you doing in—" Seeing the three of them, Remus stops halfway into the room, his hand on the doorknob. "… Do I want to know what I'm interrupting?"

"No," James says, shaking his head. "You probably don't."

"We were just talking," Sirius says at the same time.

"Right." Remus looks between the three of them. "Talking. So why are you hugging my girlfriend? And why does she look ecstatic?"

"Because I'm hugging her?"

"I don't think you have any reason to be jealous, Moony," James says, looking rather pained.

"Oh? Really?" Remus raises his eyebrows at them, sitting arm in arm on the bed, behind what was a previously closed door.

"Remus," Lily says with a huge grin, "these two are doing it."

"… _what_?" squeaks Remus, his eyes widening abruptly.

Sirius groans softly. "Remind me to introduce you to subtlety sometime, Lils," he mutters.

James just shakes his head.

Still grinning, Lily adds, "I came up here and found them snogging like there's no tomorrow!"

Remus's grip slackens on the doorknob and his hand falls to his side. "I… I misheard you," he mumbles, staring at his girlfriend. "For some reason, I thought you just said—" He's unable to finish the sentence.

"Lily, I know your boyfriend isn't as awesome as James and I are, but _must_ you break him?" demands Sirius, observing his friend's reaction with no little amusement.

Groaning, James covers his face with his hands again.

"I did," Lily tells Remus, nodding. "They are."

Remus flushes so brightly, his face practically turns purple. 

"Why would they—" he blurts, before thinking better of it and snapping his mouth closed.

"Tell him, Sirius."

"Yes. Remus, Lils is right," declares Sirius dutifully, nodding. Remus makes a strangled, wordless noise, and glances desperately at James, who looks almost as mortified as he does. Taking this as confirmation, he squeaks again. Sirius takes in his reaction with calm interest, even as he turns even purpler. "Breathe, Remus," he suggests helpfully.

"Are you all right, baby?" Lily asks.

"Fine," Remus manages, unconvincingly, his eyes the size of tennis balls.

"You don't _look_ fine," points out Sirius judiciously.

"You really don't," Lily adds, concern creeping into her voice. "Sit down?" She moves slightly closer to Sirius, patting the space between her and James.

"Really, I'm fine," insists Remus, more strongly. He goes over to the bed anyway, but pauses briefly before sitting down, eyeing James just a tiny bit dubiously.

"I won't bite you, Moony."

At the same time, Sirius reaches across Lily to punch his arm lightly. Blushing and mumbling embarrassed apologies, Remus hurriedly sits.

"… well, this is an interesting party," James mumbles.

"Yes," agrees Remus, in the same tone. His eyes are focused, determinedly, on his knees.

" _I'm_ enjoying myself," remarks Sirius brightly.

Glaring slightly at Sirius, James turns to Remus and Lily. "I'm sorry you found out this way," he says, only blushing a little. "We were going to tell you."

"We were?"

"That's all right," mutters Remus, ignoring Sirius, and without looking up. He's still fairly pink about the ears.

"When?" Lily asks, turning to face Sirius. "And bloody hell, when did this _start_ already?"

"… Do you remember back in November, when we came over for dinner and you got completely hammered and told us we were cute and that we should be shagging?"

"… Not really, no," Lily says, furrowing her brow. " _November_?"

Sirius almost looks a little embarrassed. "Really? I bet Remus remembers it," he says, grinning.

The color on Remus's cheeks darkens again. "Oh, _God_."

"You've been shagging since _November_ and you didn't tell me?!" Lily repeats, glaring first at Sirius, then at James.

"Well, we weren't actually shagging at first," Sirius reasons defensively, while Remus groans softly and looks embarrassed practically to the point of pain.

"Too much information," James hisses.

Sirius blinks innocently at the pair of them.

"Well, still!" Lily exclaims. "You could have mentioned it!"

"It, er, slipped my mind?"

"You're one to talk," James says, sitting up a little straighter. "You two had been together how long before you told any of us?"

Remus mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "All her idea."

"That's irrelevant," Lily argues.

"Why? It seems relevant to me," says Sirius.

"Because we're talking about you two."

"Yes, but according to the precedent established by your relationship with Remus, you've discovered ours an entire—" Sirius counters haughtily, breaking off as he notices James's mother standing in the still-open door.

"… hi, mum."

Remus's head snaps up. "Mrs Potter!"

"Bloody hell, who's next, Dumbledore?" mutters Sirius to no-one in particular, sounding faintly exasperated.

Hands on her hips, Imogen looks at the quartet on the bed. "What are you kids doing hiding up here?" she asks sternly.

"Harrassing me," James replies.

"Oi, I was here first," Sirius says.

"We were just talking, Mrs Potter," Lily says with a smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"People are starting to wonder where you are," announces Imogen, unknowingly echoing her son's earlier words. "I believe one of your teammates has even expressed the fear that Sirius has gotten stuck in a closet and the rest of you are trying to get him out."

"Oh, believe me, no one's in a closet up here," James says, rolling his eyes as he pushes at Remus's back. "Move, mate."

Remus is too busy gaping again to resist being forced to his feet. "What, she _knows_?" he chokes.

"Of course she does," James says, standing up as well and attempting to straighten his shirt a bit.

"We told her over Christmas," adds Sirius, standing as well. Casually, he walks over and brushes a lock of hair back from James's forehead. "Besides, she would have figured it out on her own."

"Sirius, stop teasing that poor boy, before he has a heart attack," admonishes Imogen, with a motherly look at Remus's pink face. "And tuck your shirt back in."

Sirius grins. "But I wasn't the one who untucked it."

"I don't care."

As Sirius starts tucking the tails of his shirt back into his trousers, James shakes his head sadly at Remus. "See what I have to deal with?"

"And whose fault is that?" asks Remus.

"Sirius's," James replies matter-of-factly.

"You blame everything on me," complains Sirius cheerfully. He holds out his hand to help Lily up.

Lily takes it, grinning at Imogen as she stands. "Adorable," she tells her.

"They are, aren't they?" agrees Imogen, rather proudly.

"And we do have ears," James says, shaking his head. "I'm going downstairs before Will and Stu and who knows who else comes up here as well."

"Yes, like those adorable Quidditch women," says Sirius, draping his arm around James's shoulders.

"Those adorable Quidditch women could kick your arse, Si, you know that, right?"

"Physically, maybe," allows Sirius graciously, dragging James toward the door. "I could probably take both of them in a wand-fight, though."

"I'll tell Christine you said that," Lily calls, grinning at the sight of the both of them.

"Go ahead," Sirius calls back, grinning. "I think she hates me, anyway."

"I am leaving," James announces, laughing. "I have presents to open, anyway."

Sirius nods. "Yes, you do."

"And I have another bottle of wine I need to find and finish," mumbles Remus, following the other two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading the next chapter, perhaps you'd like to check out a bonus scene? [30 March 1984](http://archiveofourown.org/works/856468).


	29. 2–8 April 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James gets injured during a Quidditch match.

**Monday, 2 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, A while ago a bracelet that I got from my godmother went missing and I thought I'd lost it, but last night I was looking through my best friend's book bag and found it hidden inside her make up bag! It can't be coincidence, she must have stolen it. What should I do? Should I confront her about it and if so, how? /Betrayed** Dear Betrayed, Take it out of her make-up bag, wear it in front of her, and see how she reacts. (Hopefully she'll have the sense to be ashamed of herself, and not try to deny it, though it wouldn't do anyone any good even if she did try.) Then cuss her out. Loudly. Or maybe just hex her the next time you see her, and THEN start with the cussing and the maniacal raving. Oh, and don't forget, at some point, to demand an explanation. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your favourite outfit (for yourself)? /Fashionista** Dear Fashionista, Skin. Not necessarily my own, either. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I know you say age doesn't matter when it comes to love and stuff like that. I'm a 23-year old male, in love with a 48-year old woman -- is age still not an issue, or is the gap just too wide? She likes me back but we're not sure it'd be socially acceptable. /Boytoy** Dear Toyboy, I can't tell you whether or not it'd be "socially acceptable" — but I can tell you that I think the possibility it wouldn't be is a stupid reason to not let yourselves be happy. It's not like your relationship would actually be _hurting_ anyone, is it? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How much coffee is too much coffee (in one day)? /Taylor** Dear Taylor, More than three pots. Well, that's my personal limit, anyway. And those are on hangover days. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, HELP I think my cat is dying! He's six years old and I think he just pooped! He's never done that before -- cats aren't supposed to, right? What do you think is wrong with him? What should I do? Help help help I'm really worried!! /Helena** Dear Helena, Your cat is six years old and he's never pooped before? Allow my brain a moment to process this baffling revelation. I doubt the fact he's pooping now is anything to be concerned about, but if he really has never done that before, you might want to take him to a vet and get him checked out, anyway. Sirius PS: _Never_ in six _years_!?! 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have very frizzy and curly hair naturally, and everyone keeps telling me I should stock up on Sleekeazy's hair potion because it'd really improve my appearance. However, I really like my hair -- it has personality! What do you reckon, should I tame my curls or embrace them? /Kink-head** Dear Kinky, I say embrace them! Hair with character is the best sort. (And a bit of a personal weakness, really.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My male friend just told me he's in love with me (I am also a man) and I kind of told him he was disgusting and to get away from me. Do you reckon I was too blunt in my reaction? I have nothing against gay people but I don't want them to fancy me. Please help! /Richard** Dear Richard, You are an ass. If you truly have nothing against gay people, you wouldn't have this problem with them fancying you. In short, I DEFINITELY reckon you were too blunt (and WAY too harsh) in your reaction. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any hints on how to become Head Boy at Hogwarts? What to do, what not to do... that sort of thing. Thanks!! /Liam** Dear Liam, Just don't do ANYTHING that I ever did while at school (except maybe acing practically all your exams) and you should be good. I specifically recommend not hex people 'cause you think they're prats and you're bored. Also, not, say, trying to feed your arch-nemesis to vampires or Inferi or something. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, So this nice fellow asked me out, and I'm thinking it might be nice because he's cute and friendly and funny and all that... only he has a REALLY ridiculous name, so I said no. Am I an idiot for turning him down just because of this? (It's REALLY bad.) Should I change my mind and say yes despite having to bite my lip to keep from laughing every time someone calls him by name? /Ms Picky** Dear Pickles, Yes, you are an idiot. Yes, you should change your mind and say yes. And get over the ridiculous name thing — it's not his fault, and being laughed at for it probably doesn't feel too spectacular. Maybe give him a nickname to distract yourself from his real one. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think I have a crush on one of my Professors. I might have a shot; the person in question is only a few years older than me and single, as far as I know, and seems to like me well enough. Should I go for it? /Beauxbatons Belle** Dear Belle, Er. The only reason I can think of not to go for it is the possibility of getting him sacked. It would be a pretty poor way to repay him for liking you, don't you think? Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 4 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem! I have recently been seeing this man who's quite a lot older than me, but that in itself is not the problem. The problem is that he is the father of one of my closest friends. We've been going out for about six months and we're crazy about each other, but we're both really hesitant to tell my friend/his daughter about it. What should we do? How should we tell her? Please don't tell me we should break it off because I have never been this happy in my life! /Friend's Stepmum** Dear Stepmum Well, I daresay that isn't a usual sort of problem. I'm not going to just arbitrarily tell you to break it off, but I do strongly suggest that you tell your friend/his daughter _as soon as possible_. This is not something you want to let her discover herself; she'll feel betrayed. As for how to tell her, I recommend being straightforward about it. Just tell her the truth, and hope she understands. That's really all you can do. (Definitely mention that you're happier with her father than you've ever been before.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If James Potter didn't play professional Quidditch, what would he do for a living? /Paulie** Dear Paulie, Um. I don't know. I'm trying to get over the fact that you used "James Potter" and "didn't play professional Quidditch" in the same sentence, and it wasn't a joke. That said, I think he might have tried to take over the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I read Helena's letter on Monday and laughed and laughed. Of course cats poop! However I have a similar question: my friend tells me that girls (human girls) do, and this simply can't be true, can it? My brothers always told me that this is something only boys and men do. Girls are way too soft and pretty for that sort of thing. Who is right? /Aldric** Dear Aldric, If cats poop (even girl ones), why shouldn't human girls poop? Soft and pretty has NOTHING to do with it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who is the nicest Quidditch player you know? And the least nice one? /Johnny** Dear Johnny, I'm tempted to say James Potter for both of those, but I won't. The nicest Quidditch player I've ever met would probably be Alicia Monet, who plays for the Holyhead Harpies. I had to interview her once, and she was an absolute _darling_. As for least nice, that seems like kind of a loaded question. I don't know that I ought to answer it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best mate and I have been friends since school and live together. Everything is brilliant, except that he's dating this amazing girl who I have found myself falling for! The biggest problem is that he doesn't really seem all that interested in her -- in fact he's dating other people as well, and only last night he had some other girl stay the night! It just doesn't seem fair that he is the one who gets to be with her when he doesn't even know what he's got, when I am head over heels in love with her and can't do anything about it. What should I do? /Fifth Wheel** Dear Fifth, Easy. Tell him how you feel about her. If he's any kind of reasonable, he'll realise that she's more important to you than to him, and he'll... well, for lack of a less chauvinistic phrase... let you have her. Sounds like he doesn't deserve her, anyway. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If someone says they want to take things slow, just exactly what do they mean? Is there a thing as too slow? /Impatient** Dear Impatient, Yes, there is definitely such a thing as too slow. As for what a specific person means when they say they want to take things slow, well, you'd have to ask them. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever found yourself fantasising about someone else than the person you were with in a moment of passion? /Georgiana** Dear Georgiana, Hah. Yes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My skin is really awful and it's making me feel really self-conscious. Do you know of anything that works? /Pimply** Dear Pimply, I have no firsthand advice to share, but I've heard that bubotuber pus (properly processed and diluted and whathaveyou) can do wonders. Just, er, don't use the straight stuff. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really want a puppy. How do I convince my parents this is a good idea? How did you go about getting your dog? /Canine lover** Dear Canine lover, My dog kind of just, well, fell into my lap, as it were. As to how to convince your parents that it's a good idea for you to have a pet dog... pretend you've got no human friends, maybe? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you do if you really, really, REALLY can't stand one of your dorm mates? (I mean REALLY can't stand them.) /Miserable** Dear Miserable, Hex them routinely until they are terrified of you and scurry out of sight whenever you come near. Or just start sleeping in the common room? Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 6 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the worst name you've ever heard of for a baby? /Peter** Dear Peter, I think Albus Percival Wulfric Brian is pretty up there. Doesn't beat Ardvarticus, though — and don't ask me who did that, because I'm not telling. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You seem to have very strong feelings about infidelity in a relationship. Have you ever been cheated on, personally? /Rosa** Dear Rosa, I've never had a romantic relationship prove unfaithful, no. But I did have someone I considered a close friend turn out to be... exactly the opposite. Besides, I just think it's low and disrespectful of the other person — and yourself — to take your word and their trust so lightly. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really fancy this bloke at work, and he says he likes me too. However he won't date me because I am allergic to dairy, and he really loves all sorts of dairy products or something. I keep telling him what a dumb reason this is, but he says it would just never work between us. Who is right, here? /Intolerant** Dear Intolerant, You both are! He's right that it would never work between you... without a great deal of sacrifice and work on his part, and yours to a lesser extent. And you're right that it's a dumb reason... unless he's not willing to put in that work. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, When was the last time you went on a date? /R.S.** Dear R.S., What, you again? I don't remember. Months ago. Sometime last year. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How excited are you about this year's Quidditch finals? Is there any game in particular you think I need to see? (I already have tickets for the Prides vs Puddlemere game on 5 May.) /Clueless Quidditch Fan** Dear Clueless Q F, I'm _really_ excited, and I don't mind admitting it; James is playing this year. I want to tell you not to miss the Pride vs Harpies game, but in the interest of promoting Cup-important matches to the Clueless such as yourself... I'm going to tell you not to miss the Pride vs Harpies match. Or the Harpies vs Kestrels, just because. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you let someone know that you don't want to be friends with them anymore? /Anna** Dear Anna, The one time I had to do that involved obscenities and jail time (not for me). I would suppose your situation doesn't call for that, however, so maybe just say "I'm sorry, but I just don't want to hang out with you anymore"? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just told my best friend that I'm in love with her, after being too scared to say anything for years. She was really good about it, but she doesn't feel the same way about me, and now I feel like the world's biggest idiot! Do you have any suggestions on how to make it stop hurting so much? /Adam** Dear Adam, Cry. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's your opinion on red lacy underthings? Is it something you'd enjoy seeing on your significant other? /Victoria** Dear Victoria, My personal opinion is that red lace looks good on almost all females. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife never closes the door while using the bathroom, and this really bothers me! I think it's rather a turn-off and un-romantic, but she says she doesn't see what the problem is. Am I being unreasonable and prudish? /Hubby** Dear Hubby, Does it bother you when she blows her nose? Farts? Would you like her to do all of those things behind closed doors so that you can go on pretending she doesn't do them, too? Get over it a bit, why don't you. Or you could simply tell her that it's a turn-off, and hope she appreciates that. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, In your opinion, who is the most attractive player in the Quidditch league? /Castor** Dear Castor, James Potter. I have to say that — but I probably would even if I didn't. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Kenmare, Irleand  
7 April 1984  
12.36 pm** _

"… and it's Kenmare Chaser Atkinson with the Quaffle, heading for yet another goal — intercepted by a Bludger, and it's McMullough for Portree, passing to Davenport, back to McMullough —"

From his rather prime seat in the stands, Sirius is watching the Quaffle with narrowed eyes, looking rather tense. "Come on," he mutters, to the Portree Chasers. "Come on, he'll be impossible if you lose—"

"— Potter, Davenport — and she's intercepted by a well-placed Bludger from Astolf," the announcer continues, as the Quaffle passes back into Kenmare's possession. "Wight in possession, heading for a goal — he scores, and it's 70 to 30, Kenmare."

Sirius swears under his breath, and then a little more loudly when he, impressively, manages to catch a glimpse of the determined expression on James's face. 

"Williamson shoots — it's a long one — and it's Davenport, Potter, Davenport, McMullough —"

"Come on," Sirius mutters again, his eyes darting between Chris and Will passing the Quaffle between them, and James shooting down the pitch toward the goal posts, obviously preparing for his fellow Chasers to pass to him.

"— Davenport's heading for the goal, ladies and gentlemen, will she even the score for Portree? — and she passes to McMullough, back to Davenport, and Potter's in a great position to — OUCH!"

One of Kenmare's Beaters comes out of nowhere and collides with James, running them both into the goalpost, the smaller man slammed between the Beater's considerable girth and the metal of the post. Instantly Sirius leaps to his feet and rushes to the rail of his box. "Holy shit!"

"— and Potter's down, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer proclaims somewhat superfluously, as James has slid down the goalpost, barely hanging on to his broom, and is lying in a heap on the ground. "It's a foul on Astolf, and the referee calls for a time-out."

"Fucking—" mutters Sirius as, somewhat to the bemusement of the other people in the box, he whirls around and bolts out the door and toward the steps.

"And we're still sitting through a time-out, as the Healers approach a bleeding Potter — ouch, that does not look comfortable —"

At the words "bleeding Potter", Sirius pales a bit, and his headlong dash down about twelve flights of stairs grows, somehow, even faster.

"The referee is talking to Astolf, not looking too happy — and it might be a while before we pick back up, because here are the feathery kestrels of Kenmare, to entertain you while the Healers attend to Potter —"

"Fucking referee better—" growls Sirius, as he swings around the corner at the end of one flight and the start of another. "Fucking Astolf— bet it was fucking _deliberate_ —"

"— who is sitting up — ouch, that is a _lot_ of blood —"

Grim-faced, Sirius skids to a halt at the bottom of the last flight of stairs, looking frantically around for the passage leading to the pitch. Spotting it, he dashes toward it. His view of James is obscured by four Healers crowded around him at the base of the goalpost.

Sirius makes a beeline across the pitch toward the Healers, the goalposts, and James.

"— I'm telling you, I'm fine, let me back up there —"

"Oh, no, James," Sirius mutters to himself, slowing slightly as he tries to catch his breath and still run. "I don't _think_ so."

He's interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, you're not supposed to be down here."

Stumbling to an unexpected halt, Sirius glances, wild-eyed, at the vaguely official-looking person attached to the hand. He glares at the man, then at the hand. "What?" he snaps impatiently. "Excuse me, I have to—"

"Sir," the rather burly security guard repeats, less friendly this time. "You're gonna have to vacate the pitch."

"Um, no," says Sirius, with another irritated glare at the hand. He gestures jerkily toward the spot James is presumably occupying at the bottom of the goalposts. "I am not. I'm going over —"

"Don't make me call for backup," the man says, reaching for his wand, as James, still obscured from view, insists "No, really, I'm _fine_ — you think this is the worst that's happened to me?"

Having just completed a frantic sweep of all the activity near James, Sirius's wild eyes notice the guard's movement, and narrow. "You do _not_ want to do that," he growls warningly. "Seriously, _I need to_ —"

Another security guard, approaching from Sirius's other side, announces his presence with a loud, suspicious, "Sir, you can't— Mr Black? What are _you_ doing—"

"Ioan, please help me remove this man," the first guard states, ignoring his question to Sirius.

"But Mr Black—" the second guard starts to say, looking slightly uncertain.

With a loud, impatient growl, Sirius shakes out of the guard's hold and, in a very loud, imperious voice, announces, "Right, that's _it_. I need to get to James _five minutes ago_ and if you two do not let me through _this instant_ , I'm going to hex you both all the way to next week!"

Ioan, the second guard, glances at Sirius and then his fellow guard. He hurriedly steps up between them, and says, "Look, Mr Black, I understand you're concerned but I'm sure Mr Potter is fine, and you really shouldn't—"

"You know this guy?" the first guard asks, as James insists once more that he's fine. ("Really, once, when I was eight, I broke three toes and still —")

Ioan is nodding. "Yes, he's Mr Potter's—"

"I swear to Merlin," Sirius interrupts the guards, rather roaring now, and drawing his wand, "If you bloody idiots don't let me the fuck through—"

Blinking, the first guard glares — but steps aside. Ioan wastes no time in stepping aside as well.

The look on his face both deadly and slightly deranged, Sirius immediately brushes by them, darting once more for James.

"— and when I was in my fourth year, this idiot smacked into me head-on —"

"Shut it!" barks Sirius, elbowing his way through the startled Healers to James's side. He pales a little at all the blood on James's face and the upper part of his purple and gold uniform, and declares, "You are _not_ going back up there."

Trailing off mid-sentence, James blinks at him. "Si?"

"Good, you didn't get _all_ your senses knocked out of you, just most of them," replies Sirius shortly. Wand still out, he moves closer, and begins running his hands gingerly over James's head.

"Cut it out!" James snaps, leaning out of his grasp. "Si, you're not even supposed to be here —"

"How much blood have you lost?" demands Sirius worriedly, ignoring his words. When James doesn't respond quickly enough, he rounds on the nearest Healer and repeats the question.

"Erm," the young woman stammers. "He's — we're not letting him back up there, he needs to go home and rest —"

Sirius turns back to James, his hands on his hips now. "Do you hear that?"

"I keep telling her, I'm _fine_ ," James insists, sitting up a little straighter, as the announcer says something about a strange man scaring the Healers off but please not to worry everything is under control.

Having followed Sirius at a slower pace, Ioan and his fellow security guard approach the little knot of people around James, Ioan still looking uncertain.

"You are _not_ fine!" snaps Sirius wildly. He points at James's uniform. "You're covered in blood!!"

"A little blood never killed anyone!"

Sirius glares at him, apparently oblivious to everyone else around them. " _A little_ …? James Aldwyn Potter, you listen to me—"

Whatever Sirius intended to say is lost as the referee flies over to the growing group of people, looking less than pleased. "Will Potter be going back up?" he demands of one of the Healers, after glaring at all and sundry.

The young woman previously interrogated by Sirius quickly shakes her head.

"Right, then," replies the referee briskly. "Get him and… this lot… off my bloody pitch, then."

"And it looks like James Potter is leaving the pitch," the announcer says as the group gets to their feet. "Let's give him a round of applause, folks, and welcome in Cornelia Jacobsen in his stead."

As James stands, Sirius protectively puts a hand on the small of his back, to steady him if he should need it.

"I'm _fine_ ," James snaps, demonstratively taking extra large steps towards the stands. "Merlin, Si, stop acting like you're my mother —"

"You don't _look_ fine," is all Sirius says, keeping pace with James and still glowering worriedly.

"Well, I am," James says, a bit softer. "It was just my elbow, anyway."

"Your elbow bled all over your head?" retorts Sirius. He glances at each of James's elbows in turn. "What _about_ your elbow?"

"No, that was my head," James replies, rolling his eyes. "I broke it. Just a bit."

"Your head or your elbow?"

"His elbow," pipes in one of the male Healers. "And it wasn't a _bit_ , it was completely crushed — why do you think there were four of us out there?"

Sirius glares at James.

"Don't look at me like that," James mutters, bending and flexing his right arm. "It's fine now. See?"

Sirius doesn't look particularly appeased. "Well," he growls. "What about your head?"

"That was nothing."

Sirius looks pointedly at the blood that is still all over James.

"It was only a tiny little cut, Si," James insists as they step through a door leading to the stands. "It looks worse than it was."

"Right, sure it was." Sirius pauses, turning around a little to address one of the Healers, who are still following them. "How much blood did he lose through this tiny little cut?"

"Well, he's refusing to come in for observation overnight —"

James rolls his eyes. Sirius somehow doesn't look surprised by this, nor any more or less concerned than he was before. He waves a vague hand — not the one still hovering behind James — to dismiss the Healer's words. "Yeah, I figured, but— An estimate, please?"

Glancing nervously at James, the Healer replies, "Including his arm, around a pint, probably."

His brows drawing together sharply, Sirius snaps his head back to glare sternly at James. "A _pint_?" he repeats, his voice rising.

"Come now, Si, you know how quickly a pint goes down in the pub —"

"But not a pint of blood!" protests Sirius, switching the hand at James's back from hovering to resting firmly against him. "Seriously, Jim—"

"Well, of course not _blood_ ," James replies, shaking his head. "You're not a vampire, are you?"

" _Jim_ ," repeats Sirius, his voice abruptly lowering, dangerously soft. The look on his face is less wild than before, more worried.

"Don't call me that," James complains, coming to a stop. "Hey, Si, can you do a quick Scourgify on my face? My wand's in the locker room and I don't want to go sit in the stands looking like —"

Sirius stops next to him, exclaiming incredulously, "You're not going to sit in the stands, you're going home!"

"What?" James protests, sounding even more incredulous. "I can't go home, Sirius, we're still down —"

"Mate, you've lost a lot of blood—" Sirius attempts to argue, before apparently remembering that such a tactic is useless. He sighs heavily, his fingers curling in the back of James's uniform, and says instead, "Look, if I promise to tell you what happens—"

" _You_ get to stay and I don't?!"

Sirius stares at him. "You think I _want_ to stay?"

James opens his mouth — no doubt to protest once more — but is interrupted by a loud voice barking, "Potter! Home! Bed!"

Looking over his shoulder to where James's coach has appeared in the doorway back onto the pitch, Sirius looks relieved. "There, see?" he says to James. "Your coach agrees. You can't not listen to him!"

"But —"

"No buts!" Sirius interrupts. "I am taking you home and putting you to bed and then I'm going to come back and watch the rest of this stupid match so I can tell you how it ends."

James looks very unhappy. Very, very unhappy. "But it's our second to last game of the season, Si."

"I know," replies Sirius, soothingly, "but your being here isn't going to change the outcome one little bit."

"… well, this sucks!"

"I know," Sirius repeats. "Now hold on while I Apparate us."

James looks rather amused. "Si, I can Apparate on my own."

"Humour me!"

Shaking his head, James nevertheless grabs Sirius's arm. "See you on Monday, Coach!" he calls. Sirius just waves vaguely as he pulls out his wand and turns.

"There," James says as they appear on their front step, "ta very much for the lift, now get back to sodding Kenmare and —" Gently, Sirius grabs the back of James's head with his wand hand and pulls him forward for a kiss. " — mff."

After a minute, Sirius draws his head back just enough to rest their foreheads together. "Bed, James."

"Si, you'll get blood all over you," James complains, not pulling back. "And I will. Shoo."

"In a minute," Sirius assures him, disentangling one hand to open the front door and usher James through it.

"What're you doing?" James protests. "You have to go back and let me know how Cornelia is doing and if Astolf got sent off and —"

"I will. In a minute." Sirius starts James up the stairs.

"Sirius, I can go to bed on my own!" James snaps. "Besides, I want to take a shower and —"

Finally, Sirius stops, at the head of the stairs, giving James a rather exasperated look. "And what?"

"… and lay on the sofa and listen to the wireless," James admits, somewhat reluctantly.

"No." Sirius shakes his head. "I'll leave now, but only if you promise to do nothing but take a shower and go straight to bed afterward."

"Why can't I listen to the game?!"

"Because if you do that you won't _relax_ and _rest_ ," exclaims Sirius, with a doglike shake of his head, reaching up to brush some blood-soaked hair away from James's face.

"I feel fine," James insists. "Really. A bit sticky, maybe, and not in a fun way, but fine."

"James, _please_."

"… all right," James finally agrees, rather grumpily. "You'll pick up my things from the locker room, yeah?"

"Yes, right after the game," promises Sirius. "I'll even ask that adorable Quidditch woman of yours who hates me, to make sure I get everything."

"Thank you," James says, managing a small grin. Then, "… Si?"

"Yes?"

"I don't suppose you feel like Scourgifying this blood off me so I can lay down without taking a shower?"

Sirius expression melts into a tender, worried smile. "Of course." He raises his wand, muttering the spell under his breath.

"Thanks," James mutters. "Only that my head is kind of pounding."

"Uh-huh." Sirius does not look especially surprised. He turns James in the direction of his bedroom. "Go rest."

James nods. "You go make sure my team wins, all right?"

"Right." He leans in and kisses James again.

Giving him a rather weak-looking smile, James takes a step back. "See you soon."

Sirius nods. "Rest, mate." With a last, gentle push toward his bedroom, he Disapparates.


	30. 9–15 April 1984

**Monday, 9 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is James all right?! /Concerned Fan** Dear Concerned Fan, After a weekend of rest, yes, James is just fine. And he appreciates your concern, I'm sure. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend and I are splitting up after five years together (very sad). Problem is we have two cats together, and we can't decide who gets to keep them! He bought them, but I'm the one who's been taking the most care of them. Who deserves to get them? /Spurned** Dear Spurned, Well, who wants them more? (And by that, I mean probably you.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Were you at the Portree V Kenmare game on Saturday? Do you know anything about the spectator that rushed the pitch after James Potter's accident? /Curious** Dear Curious, As my review of the match in this paper ought to have told you, yes, I was at that game. As for the spectator... I've no comment. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am the world's worst procrastinator! Any tips on how to get my homework done before midnight, just for once? /Leader of Tomorrow** Dear Tomorrow, Try not allowing yourself to eat until you have at least gotten your homework halfway done? I really wouldn't know — for most of my Hogwarts career, I tended to do my homework at breakfast. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any favourite quotes? If so, what are they? /Collector** Dear Collector, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Really, though. Almost anything Professor Dumbledore has ever said in my hearing counts, as well. Sirius PS: Psst. "Call now, and we'll double the offer for FREE!" 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband passed away two years ago, leaving me with three young children. I've only recently begun to feel as though I could ever love again, but I'm really worried that I will never find someone who will accept that I come with three under-tens. Should I just give up and accept that I will be a single mother for the rest of my life? /Hopeless** Dear Hopeless, No! You should absolutely not give up! Giving up is never a good idea. Besides, your kids ought to have some sort of a father-figure, don't you think? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever seen any Muggle musical movies? Which ones? And what did you think of them? /Eliza** Dear Eliza, No, I'm afraid I haven't. Should I? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My name is Holofernes (no, really) and as you can imagine, I'm not thrilled about it. Can you think of any nicknames I could use? /Holofernes (I know)** Dear Hol (I'm sorry, I just can't make myself write out the rest), For awhile, I used to think I had something of an awful name, but mine has nothing on yours. Maybe you could go by Hol? (Holo probably wouldn't be wise.) Nes? Nessy? Fern? Jack?! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why do mummy bears let humans take their babies' skins and make toy bears out of them? Don't they miss their babies? /Alexa** Dear Alexa, Don't worry, dear, mummy bears don't. Toy bears are only copies of real bears, not the skins of baby bears. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend is always copying me. Like, I bought a new set of dress robes in periwinkle -- so did she. I cut my hair short -- so did she. I got my nose pierced -- so did she. This is getting really annoying and a bit creepy! Do you think she's trying to BE me? Just the other day she was saying how she wants to bleach her hair -- she's a brunette and I'm a blonde, and it's sort of creeping me out! /Stalked?** Dear Stalked, First, I suggest a simple test to see if your friend's emulation of you is really an obsession, or if you simply happen to have good ideas. My suggestion would be to announce that you're thinking of going into prostitution (or something equally unlikely to be a normal person's ambition); see if she does the same thing. If she does, well, you can be pretty sure you've got a creepy friend! In which case, I suggest you move without telling her. Twice. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 11 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am going on my very first "real" date (outside of going to Hogsmeade!) next week. Do you have any suggestions on what to do, where to go... I am completely clueless. Help! /Newbie Casanova** Dear Newbie, Don't go somewhere too private — but not too public, either. Maybe to see a play or a Muggle movie, if you like the cinema, and then to your favourite café for a nice chat. Or a stroll through your local shopping district, for some window-peering and friendly face time. It depends on how much gold you have, really. Just remember not to get too frisky and touchy-feely... even if you think she'd be up for it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If three seasons had to be eliminated and there would only be one left, which one would you keep and why? /Greenie** Dear Greenie, I don't know, actually. I'd like to say summer, for the lack of clothing (not just mine), but on the other hand I also want to say winter, because it has Christmas. And _snow_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really want a career in photography but my parents think it's a waste of time! I really do reckon I have some talent, and it's an artform, but my parents just don't see it! What should I do to make them understand? /Click** Dear Click, Show them some of your work! Or the work of someone you admire! Of course, it's possible that they may never understand, so you might end up having to just say to them that, hey, this is your passion, and it's what you're going to do, and that's just how it is. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a new girlfriend who I'm very happy with in every way. However, she wants me to be very verbal, shall we say, during our intimate moments. This doesn't come naturally to me at all and I have no idea what to say -- I feel like anything I come up with will just sound silly! Do you have any advice? /Blushing** Dear Blushing, Er. Um. Just, uh, turn off the filter between your brain and your mouth? Really, just start talking. If you sound silly, the worst that'll happen is she'll start laughing at you — but maybe it'll convince her to give up the idea. Rambling seems to work pretty well, though. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend has some sort of idea that she's going to be the next Celestina Warbeck. Problem is, she sounds like a skinned cat when she sings! She thinks she's really good, though, and I feel as though I should say something before she makes a fool out of herself. What should I do? /Deafened** Dear Deafened, That's easy. Tell her. Gently, of course. As her friend, it is your duty to tell her how it is and make sure she's not labouring under any awful delusions. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Since you seem to think it's all right for someone to date their friend's dad, I have to ask you: is it all right to date your dad's friend? Because there's this bloke I sort of fancy, but I've been worried it'd just be too weird. Please let me know! /Adie** Dear Adie, Actually, personally, I reckon that's a bit LESS weird. (Even though I wouldn't touch any of my parents' friends with a forty-foot cattle prod. ~~Nevermind, yes I would.~~ ) Go for it! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think neon green can ever look good? /Raver** Dear Raver, Sure. To the blind. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, According to you, what's the most surprising thing about growing up? Is there anything that's really different from what you expected? /Carlo** Dear Carlo, ... What is this growing up you speak of? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you believe there's someone out there for everyone, or are some people just meant to be alone? And do you believe in the concept of soulmates, or do you think it's more of a question of matching personalities and then working really hard? /Cupido** Dear Cupido, I think soulmates are people whose personalities match who are willing to work really hard. And I do think there's someone for everyone (some people just don't open their eyes wide enough to see it), but I don't necessarily think that just because they're your Someone, you're theirs. And I hope that made sense, because I think I might have confused myself a bit writing it out. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you a good cook? Do you have a signature dish? /Elmo** Dear Elmo, I'm a pretty decent cook, when I can get around to cooking. I am lazy, however, and James is efficient and good at making yummy things, so I don't usually bother. As for a signature dish... um, no, I don't think I have one. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 13 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My mate bet me ten Galleons I wouldn't eat a live worm. Do you reckon it's worth it? /Albin** Dear Albin, Yeah. At least, I hope it is, because when I did it, it was for _five_ Galleons... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Did you get in trouble for rushing onto the pitch on Saturday at all? /Eagle-Eyed** Dear Eagle-Eyed, Ah. Noticed that was me, did you? No, I didn't. Extenuating circumstances. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What, in your opinion, is the biggest difference between men and women? (Apart from the obvious biological ones, I mean!) /Mark** Dear Mark, Women get more emotional — at least once a month — and men have no fashion sense. So that's the difference. Women dress well, and men have no feelings. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am so bad at getting up in the morning! I oversleep nearly every day despite setting three alarms. Do you have any suggestions on how to make sure I wake up before noon? /Sleepy** Dear Sleepy, Get a dog and train him to jump on you when your alarms go off. If the dog is big enough, this _will_ wake you up. Trust me, I should know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's manly to cry? When was the last time you cried? /Pansy** Dear Pansy, It's manly to cry if it's a man doing the crying, I think. The last time I cried was, er, about a month ago, I think. Someone said something wonderful to me and I couldn't help it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I might be moving in with my boyfriend who plays Quidditch professionally soon, but I thought I'd ask your opinion first. What do you think are the biggest pros and cons of living with a professional athlete? We've only been going out a couple of months so I don't have that much experience on the subject. /April** Dear April (who is writing in during April!), Well, as for cons... They tend to be rather sweaty and gross when they get home from work. And they have a rigid schedule. And people tend to know who they are. As for the pros... They are, in general, in excellent shape. And you always know when they're going to be home. And, well, I can't think of any other pros that aren't person-specific to my professional athlete. Sorry! I hope I've been helpful, though. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife and I just keep fighting every single day, over the smallest and most unnecessary things imaginable (like what colour coasters to get for the living room). I don't know how much longer I can stand this! I love her and I want to be with her, but is it really worth all the stress and agitation? /Helpless** Dear Helpless, If you love her, it's worth just about anything. Might I suggest getting some counselling? Because it sounds to me like there's probably some deeper root problem here — honestly, who argues over coaster colours? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Would you ever kiss a man? /B.K.** Dear B.K., Not just ANY man, no. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am in love with someone who I know for a fact doesn't love me back. Obviously this is a less than ideal situation, and a rather painful one at that. Do you have any suggestions on what to do to take my mind off it? Do you reckon loads of meaningless sex with handsome strangers would work? /Rejected** Dear Rejected, No. I can assure you, with absolute confidence, that it _does not_ work. In fact, it might make it worse. This is not a recommended course of action. Take it from someone who's been there. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I want to impress my girlfriend for our anniversary, and I was thinking that the way of doing this is to stand under her window and sing a really romantic song. Only problem is I don't *know* any romantic songs! Do you have any suggestions? /Romeo** Dear Romeo, Um. Listen to the Wireless? Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
14 April 1984  
4.38 pm** _

Sprawled elegantly across the couch with his head propped on an arm rest, his dark clothing standing out against the white cushions, Sirius idly sips a mug of tea and stares a little vaguely in the direction of the television set. On the screen, a tiny, bald little man is talking about the miraculous hair-growth tonic he invented.

He's rudely interrupted by a knock on the front door, followed by a loud, "Anybody home?"

Sirius starts slightly. Then he goes back to watching his infomercial. "It's open, Lily!" he calls toward the front door.

The door opens, and a few moments later, Lily appears in the doorway. "That's not very gentlemanly of you, Sirius."

"I'm sulking. Sulkers aren't gentlemanly," Sirius replies, without looking away from the television. He holds out his mug in her general direction. "Tea?"

"Only if I get a mug of my own," Lily replies, tossing her coat onto James's ugly old armchair and sitting down at the other end of the sofa. "Why're you sulking?"

"James deserted me," announces Sirius, not sounding particularly put out about it. Scooting backwards toward the armrest so he's sitting up a little more, he pulls his wand and waves it in the direction of the kitchen.

"… isn't he at pre-finals practice today?"

Sirius nods. "Yes. Only I'd forgotten. He ran off when those Quidwitches who hate me came by to make sure he hadn't forgotten, either. — If this guy's product works, I wonder why he's still bald."

Lily shakes her head at the TV before waving her wand at it, turning it off. "Why do you watch these things?" With a grin, she adds, "Don't answer that. So, did you have any big plans that Christine and Cliodhna ruined, then?"

With a tiny, slightly forlorn look at the now-blank television, Sirius shrugs. "Not really."

"Why're you so cranky, then?"

"I'm _bored_ ," replies Sirius, as if this answers everything. At that moment, a steaming mug, presumably full of tea, floats out of the kitchen toward them.

"Impressive," Lily says with another grin, grabbing the mug. "Good thing I'm here to entertain you, then!"

"Are you?" asks Sirius, raising a brow.

"I am," Lily replies, taking a sip of her tea. "Might not be as entertaining as Potter, though."

Sirius grins. "Well, I have no inclination to lure you into bed, so yeah, not as entertaining."

"Oh, is _that_ what you had planned?"

In answer, Sirius sticks his tongue out at her. With a small chuckle, Lily shakes her head. "That is still weird."

Both of Sirius's eyebrows raise this time. "I don't think it's weird at all," he declares.

"Well, of course _you_ wouldn't, you've had months to get used to the idea!"

"… Actually, I've had years."

Lily blinks. "Damn, you're smooth, aren't you?" She pauses to take another sip of tea. "Years? Really?"

Sirius shrugs, glancing down into his tea instead of at her. "Since before we left school."

Looking rather surprised, Lily asks, "And how long has he known?"

"I have no idea, really," confesses Sirius, with another shrug.

"How can you not — just what _are_ the two of you, anyway?"

"We're…" begins Sirius, trailing off with a tiny frown. "What kind of a question is that, Lils?"

"No, I mean," Lily begins, pulling her legs up under her and turning towards him, "are you together, are you in love, are you just friends with benefits…?"

" _Friends with benefits_?" Sirius repeats disgustedly, with a rather offended expression.

"Well I don't know!" Lily says. "Up until I saw you two I had no idea he was even into men." She pauses. "…. I didn't know you were, either, come to think of it, but somehow that's less shocking."

"Thanks, Lils." Sirius rolls his eyes, but the look on his face eases to one of mild exasperation. "And I don't… I don't think he's into _men_ , really, just…"

"… just you?" Lily supplies, with a small smile.

Sirius rolls his eyes again, but the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. "Something like that, I think."

"Well, aren't you lucky." Her grin widening, Lily repeats, "So what are you, then?"

Sirius opens his mouth to answer, then pauses. Blushing slightly, he regards his tea again, uncertainly.

"… are you actually _blushing_?" Lily asks, incredulous. "I haven't seen you blush since… I can't even remember."

Sirius's cheeks turn even pinker, and he glares at her. "I'm not blushing," he mutters, though his tone is rather half-hearted and defeated.

"All right, you're not blushing," Lily agrees, the amusement obvious in her voice. "So are you going to answer the question, then?"

The blush that is not on Sirius's cheeks turns positively red. "No," he says, still in the defeated mumble. After a pause, he growls, "I don't think I can say it."

"… what, is it something really kinky?"

"No. I just can't… say it."

"Why the hell not?!" Lily asks, bemused. "Did you take an Unbreakable Vow or something?"

" _No_ ," repeats Sirius, looking a bit exasperated. "And it's not anything weird or anything, I just don't really… feel comfortable sharing it, straight out, all right?"

"All right," Lily says, a small crease between her eyebrows. "But you're… happy, right?"

"Of course I'm happy," avers Sirius firmly. "I've never been this happy before." Then, like a consolation for not being able to answer her previous question, he adds, "I can't _help_ being happy. I love him."

Lily's face softens a bit. "And what about him?"

Expression growing slightly stony, Sirius gives her a long look. "I beg your pardon," he replies coolly.

"All I'm saying is, you two are on the same page, right?" Lily clarifies, looking a bit sheepish. "Because I know neither of you would ever knowingly do anything to hurt each other."

"Ever," repeats Sirius, with a small nod, relaxing again. "Yes, we are, Lils."

"Good."

"Hey." Smiling softly, Sirius nudges her elbow with his foot. "What's the solemn face for? You're not worried, are you, darling?"

"Who, me? Never," she replies, flashing him a quick grin. Then, after a pause, "I'm really happy for you."

"Yeah. I'm rather pleased, myself."

"Shut up," Lily says with a small laugh. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"You can't be, I am," responds Sirius, automatically.

Completely ignoring this statement, Lily says, "I was sort of rooting —"

"Yeah?" Sirius murmurs, tilting his head to one side a bit and giving her an affectionate look. "Thank you, then."

"I mean, if nothing else, you're both stubborn bastards who were never gonna find anyone else you like better than each other, anyway."

Sirius barks a laugh at this.

Lily grins back at him. "So, November, huh?"

Sirius nods. "After your little dinner party."

"And yet you didn't send me a thank you present." A pause. "Or even chocolate."

"I gave you my chocolate cake the next time we had lunch together."

"… was _that_ what that was for?" Lily asks, genuinely surprised. "I thought that was weird."

"I don't usually give away chocolate cake," Sirius agrees.

"It is a bit against your nature," Lily nods. "So. Potter's in love with you?"

Sirius turns pink again. "You don't need to sound so... so..."

"So what?"

"So superior," Sirius finishes in a mumble.

" _Superior_?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, it sounded better than 'smug' did."

"I'm not smug!" Lily protests, swatting his arm. "I'm sort of surprised, actually."

"But you said you were rooting—"

"Like I said, I didn't know he was into men," Lily interrupts. "I thought the whole gender thing might have been a bit of an obstacle."

Sirius grimaces a little. "Like _I_ said, as far as I know, he isn't. Or wasn't."

"… something you're not telling me about yourself?"

"No," he replies, rolling his eyes. "Don't be silly."

"Then what?"

"He never… He wasn't… Well." Sirius pauses, and frowns pensively. "I think," he continues carefully, "that he hadn't considered it, seriously, before you said what you did, and I made him."

"You _made_ him consider it?" Lily asks, blinking at him.

"Er, in a manner of speaking."

"… how?"

"I sort of kissed him—"

"You didn't!" Lily exclaims. "Why?!"

Sirius blinks. "... What do you mean, _why_? Because I wanted to, of course."

Lily rolls her eyes. "Well, of course. But that's a pretty big risk to take, considering the possible gender related obstacles and all."

"Oh, that." Sirius smirks, to himself. "Let's just say I was fairly confident he wouldn't be minding."

"… you didn't use Legilimency, did you?"

"No!" Sirius rolls his eyes again. "At that point, I didn't need it, anyway."

"Stop being cryptic and tell me what the hell you're on about, would you?"

Sirius chuckles. "What, you actually want details?"

Lily laughs. "It depends on how detailed your details are."

"Right." Sirius pretends to consider this. "How detailed do you want them to be?"

"You tell me," Lily replies, raising an eyebrow at him. "Think about how many details about me and Remus you can stomach."

"… But that's because Remus is _hairy_ and _smelly_!"

"So are you," Lily says, more out of habit than anything else. "… okay, maybe a bit more than that, then."

"Right." Sirius nods, and pauses again. "Well… We'd left your charmingly wasted self in the hands of your stinky boyfriend, and come back here, where James had proceeded to decide we both needed to get drunk, as well."

"But you were already drunk," Lily protests. 

"Not as drunk as you," counters Sirius. "But, very well, drunk _er_. And then he confessed that one of the Quidwitches' older brothers had wanted James to set the two of us up, and he'd told him I wasn't interested, and I got testy—"

"Why?"

Sirius looks a little uncomfortable. "Because I thought he thought I wouldn't have wanted to go out with Padraig because he was male. It was all quite nonsensical, really."

"And you had none such gender related issues, I assume?" Lily asks, not really a question.

"No," answers Sirius, flatly. "Which somehow led to a discussion of our stupid exes, which passed through the subject of James's awesomeness on its way to whether or not you were always right."

"Of course I'm always right," Lily grins. "And how is it that you remember all of this so vividly, you freak?"

Sirius's cheeks turn pink _again_.

"Hmm?" Lily insists, prodding his arm. "What?"

Sirius mutters something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, I spent the next two weeks reliving it in my head," mumbles Sirius, only a little more loudly. "Besides, it wasn't as if I was going to _forget_ a conversation like that, anyway."

Lily makes a small noise rather like a squeal.

Sirius flushes more darkly. "Oh, sod off."

"I'm sorry, you're just… never mind, go on."

"Just what?"

Grinning at him, Lily says, "Just a bit adorable. Now, you were saying how I'm always right, and then what?"

Rolling his eyes a little, and still pink, Sirius clears his throat and says, "Well, then James asked if I thought you were right about _that_ — being the shagging thing, which you probably don't remember — and I basically said that yeah, I did."

"… I bet Remus's face was something to behold after I dropped that one," Lily says, shaking her head slightly. "And how did he take that, then?"

"I think he choked on his beer, actually."

"Shocker."

"Yes. And when I asked him if _he_ thought you were right, well…" Sirius trails off, smiling a little.

"…well…?"

Returning to himself with a tiny shake of his head, Sirius chuckles, and says, "He couldn't figure out what to say. Kept going 'Well' and 'Er' and other eloquent things."

Lily chuckles. "Eloquent as always, eh?"

"Yes." Sirius nods. "And then he was even worse when I started creeping closer."

"Was he making a panic face?"

"A bit. But he knew what I was up to and he didn't try to stop me."

"I see." Lily looks at him, grinning. "Is this where the details that are too detailed begin?"

"No, those happen after he spills the beer in my lap and we go into the kitchen and snog all over the place, when we go up to bed."

"Sirius, you just spoiled the ending!"

"As if you didn't know how it was going to turn out!"

Lily's grin widens. "So Potter puts out on the first date, huh?"

Sirius opens his mouth, then closes it abruptly. "Well, actually," he says slowly, "you could kind of consider _that_ the second date. Kinda. After all, he did send me off to bed alone, initially."

"How rude!"

"He was attempting to be mature and smart."

"Mature and smart?" Lily echoes, sounding doubtful. "James Potter?"

"Well, more mature than _me_ , anyway." Sirius grins. "I would have been perfectly fine staying in the kitchen."

"But your kitchen is so drafty!"

"So? Magic can fix these kinds of things, my dear."

Lily waves an impatient hand. "So he sent you to bed alone and then you what, attacked him two seconds later?"

"No, he did."

"He did?"

"Yes. And it was more like two minutes, really."

Lily looks rather amused. "And that was that?"

"More or less, yeah."

"Happily ever after?"

Sirius nods. "So I should hope, anyway," he replies.

Looking rather like she wants to make mushy noises at him again, Lily instead asks, "I suppose it would be silly of me to ask what your intentions are, then?"

Sirius gives her a long, assessing look. "My intentions, Lily?"

"Yours, his…"

Sirius raises his eyebrows a little, still pinning her with that solemn expression.

"… it's what my dad asked Remus when we first started going out," Lily says, shrugging. "Told you it was silly."

Sirius continues to look at her for another moment, then nods sharply. "Right. You want intentions? I'll give you intentions," he says in a brisk voice. "As far as I am concerned, James Potter is _the_ most important thing on the planet, and I intend to treat him like such a _fucking prince_ , he's going to wonder what the hell we ever needed girls for."

He pauses, taking a breath.

Lily blinks at him. "Oh, Sirius…"

"No, I'm not done," he says quickly. After another breath, he hurriedly asks, "Do you remember, back in September, when we were lunching and you were having that crazy day and I was talking about the Hogwarts girls who'd written in that they wanted to marry me? And how I told them I… I was in love with someone else?"

Lily nods.

A slightly uncomfortable expression settles on Sirius's face, and his cheeks start to go back to pink. In a low voice, he says, "Well… It was true. I was, and am, and— James is just— Lily, I don't know how else to say this but… but that I intend to intend… whatever he intends." His voice grows a little unsteady on the last few words, and he pauses to swallow, hard. Then, with a sudden fierceness, finishes, " _Whatever_. As long as it means him being mine forever — because I've always been his."

"Oh, damn you," Lily replies, her eyes suspiciously bright. "I just did my makeup."

Sirius gives her a sheepish half smile, but his eyes look rather bright, too.

"I… oh, come here," Lily manages, rather throwing herself at Sirius, arms going around his neck.

With a small, slightly choked laugh, Sirius catches her, hugging her back. "I really didn't mean to do that, you know," he mumbles.

"If I get mascara stains all over your sofa, I'm blaming it on you," Lily replies, rather thickly.

"I hope you don't, not on James's pretty white sofa," Sirius protests, completely without any kind of heat.

"I'm sure he'd understand, under the circumstances."

"… and what circumstances would _those_ be?!"

Startled by the unexpected voice, Sirius jumps a little in Lily's arms, and turns to face James, in the doorway. "You're back early?"

"Obviously," James replies, leaning against the doorjamb. He's still in his Quidditch gear, looking rather windswept, flushed and muddy.

Lily sits up a little, leaning away from Sirius. "Hey," she says, giving James a small wave.

His arms empty now, Sirius lets them drop to his sides. He is staring at James with an almost blank look on his face. "Oh," is all he says.

"What are you _doing_?" asks James, crossing his arms. "Hey, Evans."

"What?" Blinking, Sirius glances over at Lily, and his bemused expression fades slightly. "Oh," he says again, more strongly this time. "We were… talking."

"About doing what on _my_ pretty white sofa?"

Lily just watches them.

Sirius looks briefly confused again, this time at James's tone. "Er, getting mascara on it."

"… you're not putting makeup on him, are you, Evans?" James asks, looking both exasperated and sort of relieved at the same time. "He really doesn't need longer eyelashes than he already has… mascara is eyelashes, right?"

"Yes," says Sirius automatically, looking even _more_ confused, probably at the knowledge that James knows what mascara is for. "But we weren't talking about it because she was going to put some on me — just I made her cry."

"He did," Lily confirms with a nod.

James rolls his eyes. "Did you insult Remus again?"

"No." Sirius shakes his head, the confused expression disappearing entirely, to be replaced by a shrewd gleam and an innocent deadpan. "I told her I loved you."

Lily whimpers.

"…… oh," is all James says.

Sirius cuts his eyes to Lily. "I think maybe I almost did it again," he remarks to James.

"Well, stop it then, you brute," James replies, but his voice is suddenly very gentle. "Don't make the lady cry."

"It's not my fault she goes all soggy when I talk about you!"

"I'm still here, you know," Lily states, rather weepily. 

Walking over to the sofa, James somewhat awkwardly pats Lily's shoulder, before bending down to give Sirius a swift kiss. Sirius grabs the back of his head to hold him in place for a moment, then pushes him away. "You reek, Jimmy darling."

He's beaming at James anyway.

"See what I have to put up with in exchange for all the mushy stuff?" James asks, turning towards Lily. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

Sirius eyes him thoughtfully. "… Can I come?" he asks, deliberately, a moment later.

" _You_ have a guest," James points out, nodding at Lily. "Entertain her." With that, he walks towards the stairs.

"She could watch!" Sirius shoots back with a smirk, winking at Lily as he says it. Lily chuckles.

"… I apologise for this one," James says, shaking his head. "Grand old pervert, he is, and an exhibitionist to boot." Halfway up the stairs, he pauses. "And for the record, Evans, I love him too."

Instantly, a kind of radiance breaks through Sirius's smirk, turning into an enormous, brilliant smile as his whole face lights up. Lily keeps her eyes on Sirius as James disappears upstairs. "Wow."

Sirius turns back to her, the brightness of his expression barely slipping. "Hm?"

"This whole village could probably be powered by that grin of yours."

"Oh, shut up," Sirius snaps sheepishly. He's still grinning.

Grinning right back at him, Lily asks, "Should I leave so you can run after him?"

After a moment's thought, Sirius shakes his head. "Nah. He'd be convinced I kicked you out and then he'd only feel guilty."

"I'm sure you'd distract him soon enough!"

"What, do you _want_ to leave so I can run after him?" demands Sirius, laughing.

"No!" Lily protests, smacking his arm a little. "Just trying to be nice. I have nothing to do at home, why do you think I came over in the first place?"

"Er, because you missed me?"

"Keep flattering yourself, boyo," Lily says with a laugh. "… so isn't it weird? At all?"

Turning away, to stare vaguely at the blank television, Sirius takes his time answering. "Well," he eventually says, slowly, "It was a bit, at first."

"Yeah?"

"At least for me. I couldn't seem to figure out whether we were supposed to act like best mates or…" Sirius shrugs lightly. "Or something else. We weren't, well, sure what the rules were, you know?"

"Uh-huh," Lily nods, turning to face him. "I meant the naked part."

Sirius blushes slightly. "What? Oh— No, that wasn't. Isn't. Whatever."

"Really? Because when Remus and I —"

"Oi!"

Lily gives him a bit of a dirty look. "You're such a selective prude, you know that? … so, what are the rules, then?"

"I just don't want to hear about anything that involves a naked Remus," counters Sirius, pulling a disgusted face. "That's one of the rules."

Lily just rolls her eyes and waits.

"As for the rest of them…" Sirius muses, a tiny frown line appearing between his brows. "I don't know, exactly. When we're here, at home, there… there kind of aren't any. Well, except that we're not allowed to do weird things in the kitchen."

"Neat freak has a problem with it?"

Sirius nods. "He's got an entire little lecture on the unsanitary aspects of having sex on the table where we eat dinner."

This time it's Lily's turn to blush, just a little.

"Which, come to think of it, is really the only difference between how things are now and how they used to be," Sirius continues, ignoring Lily's reaction. "We're exactly what we always were — plus sex."

"And mushy declarations of love while standing on the stairs?" asks Lily, raising an eyebrow. "Or did you always do that, too?"

Sirius immediately turns bright red. "Er. Not… exactly?"

"Thought not," Lily says, leaning back and yawning. "So when are you two coming over tomorrow, then?"

"When do you want us?" asks Sirius. "'Cause I anticipate being there a half hour after that."

"Well, he's pretty tired, so don't come over too —" She trails off as James reappears on the stairs, wearing only a towel around his hips.

Sirius spots him at the same time, and his face goes slightly slack, as his eyes darken several shades.

"… oh, you're not done," James says, sounding rather disappointed. "I had… something I needed help with."

"Did you?" Sirius, apparently torn between staring at James's damp hair or the muscles on his exposed stomach, manages in a low growl.

"Yeah, but it can wait," James starts, as the same time as Lily stands up.

"I should get going anyway, see if Remus is awake, all that."

Sirius cuts his eyes, very briefly, back to Lily, who is collecting her coat from James's armchair. "You're an angel, darling," he mutters, while getting to his feet and prowling around the sofa toward the hall.

"You can repay me by leaving my shrubberies well alone tomorrow night," Lily replies, blowing them each a kiss. "Have fun, boys."

"Mmhm," is Sirius's distracted reply. He has almost reached James.

"I am leaving," Lily announces, and when this gets no reaction, Disapparates without leaving the house.

Tangling one hand in James's damp hair as soon as it's within reach, Sirius murmurs, "So… you needed help with something?"

"Upstairs," is all James says, grinning as he takes Sirius's other hand in his, walking backwards up the stairs.

"Oh, I see." Sirius is grinning as well. He follows eagerly. " _Upstairs_."


	31. 16–22 April 1984

**Monday, 16 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What on earth made you rush onto the Quidditch pitch like that?! /Shocked and appalled** Dear Shocked, Well, James was hurt. I have this... thing... about blood. Other injuries I can handle, but blood... makes me a little unstable. At least when it is James doing the bleeding. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife just gave birth to our first child, a son, and we have a lovely name picked out for him. However, my father insists that I name him after the family tradition of which I am the fourth, my dad is the third, etc. He has his mind dead set on my son being the fifth and will be really upset if he isn't! What should we do? /Four** Dear Four, Name the kid whatever you and your wife want to! Taking your father's opinion into account is all well and good, but when it comes down to it... it isn't your father's baby. It's _yours_. In the end, your father has no say in the matter, and shouldn't. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, HELP! I am in huge trouble with my girlfriend! Thing is she's got an identical twin, and I accidentally went up to her sister and snogged her and felt her up while my girlfriend was across the room watching the whole thing! I told her I thought it was her but that just made her angrier as she feels I should be able to tell them apart after two years. They really do look exactly alike -- don't you think she's being rather unfair? She's made me sleep on the sofa for a week straight! /Seeing double** Dear Double Trouble, She's being a little unreasonable, I suppose — identical twins can be difficult for even their parents to tell apart. But I have to ask... Had you seen your girlfriend earlier that evening, or were she and her sister just wearing exactly the same thing? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've got this awesome new bachelor pad and I'm trying to choose a couch for my living room. The walls are zebra-striped green and yellow with bright orange polka dots interspersed randomly, and the carpet is bright blue shag. Do you suggest maroon, or neon pink? /Sofa-less** Dear Sofa-less, Merlin's. Beard. I don't suggest either! Uh, why don't you, er, get a white couch? White goes with... everything. It's what my mate and I have. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Which men would you kiss and how much money would it take? /B.K.** Dear B.K., At the moment, it's man, singular, really. And it wouldn't cost hardly anything. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Would you die for your best friend? /Lorienne** Dear Lorienne, In a heartbeat. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I know you're probably fed up with questions asking you whether it's okay to date so-and-so, but this one is a tricky one, so bear with me. I was recently involved with this girl, and it didn't last, and now I feel myself very drawn to her father. He's been divorced for a very long time, and we always got along great, but I don't know if he'd be up for anything more than that. Should I even chance it? His daughter and I dated for about two years. /Jasper** Dear Jasper, Now, this is an interesting one. I'm tempted to say that yeah, I do think it's all right, if he's up for it, but be warned that it will — _will_ — be extremely weird and awkward, at least at first. Also, I don't anticipate many people will be lining up to congratulate you... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I never seem to be able to fall asleep at night, no matter how early I go to bed! Do you have any suggestions on how to actually fall asleep instead of staring at the ceiling for hours at an end? /Insomniac** Dear Insomniac, I'm assuming you have already considered and dismissed the notion of sleeping potions. In which case, here are a few tips. Do not use your bed for anything but sleeping (no lying down to read, or to "rest" or anything — though sex is fine). Don't lie down and try to sleep if you don't feel at least a little tired and sleepy. If you've been in bed for more than fifteen to twenty minutes, and you're still not asleep, get up and go do something that isn't too active; read in your living room, play a game of cards on your kitchen table. When you're in bed, instead of trying to keep your eyes closed to sleep, try and force them to stay open, maybe stare at a specific spot on the ceiling, without blinking. Try drinking a glass of milk (warm or cold, it doesn't matter) about fifteen minutes before you actually go to bed. This wasn't expert advice or anything, but I hope it helps! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it ever okay to think that a baby is ugly? /Insensitive?** Dear Insensitive, Yes. Just don't ever, ever tell its parents that. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you do when a friend-of-a-friend is always hanging around being all smug and annoying and ruins everyone's fun in everything? /Cliodhna** Dear Cliodhna, ... Er. Politely ask the friend whose friend is annoying, to stop inviting him? Explain that you just don't think your personalities click, and avoid mentioning the fact that you really do hate him. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Imogen Potter's Residence  
Minehead, Somerset  
17 April 1984  
4.19 pm_ **

 

A cup of tea in one hand, Imogen is sitting at her kitchen table perusing a flashy magazine. The article she's currently reading seems to be on the latest fad of moving garden statuary, designed to repel gnomes and jarveys and other everyday pests.

She's torn from her fascinating reading, by the doorbell ringing. Abandoning the magazine, she stands and heads for the front door. "Coming!"

Lily's standing on her doorstep, looking slightly windswept. "Good afternoon, Mrs Potter. I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Oh, Lily, hello!" greets Imogen, smiling. "Of course you're not interrupting, dear. Come in, come in — I was just having some tea in the kitchen. Would you like to join me?"

"I'd love to, thank you."

"Any time, dear," Imogen replies, leading Lily through to the kitchen. She gestures to the table, "Have a seat, and I'll fix you a cup."

"No, please, I insist," Lily says, walking over to the cupboards herself instead. "You sit down, Mrs Potter."

Imogen laughs a little, but returns to her seat. "Imogen, please."

Looking as though she's heard this comment before, Lily grabs a mug, fills it up with tea, and sits down opposite her. "I trust you're well?"

"Yes, thank you." Closing the magazine, Imogen sets it aside. "And you? And Remus? All's well in your corner of the world, I hope."

"Yes, we're doing very well, thank you," she smiles. "Work's been busy, though."

"Everyone always seems to say that," smiles Imogen. She picks up her tea.

"I guess it's that time of year," Lily says, taking a sip of her tea. "Is Po — James excited for the finals?"

"More so than he usually is, you mean?"

"Well, it'll be his first time playing in them, won't it?"

"Yes, it will." Looking down at her cup, Imogen smiles tenderly, a little nostalgic. "He's so proud of himself."

"As are you, I bet."

" _Immensely_ , dear." Imogen's smile widens. "Sirius and I have been discussing how we're going to celebrate if Portree wins, you know."

Lily laughs. "Dare I ask?"

"Well, all of _my_ suggestions have been perfectly decent…"

Lily chokes on her tea a bit. "Pardon."

Imogen sips her tea innocently. "All right there, dear?"

"Yes, thank you," Lily replies, mopping at her chin with her hand a bit. "Actually, that's sort of why I'm here."

Imogen frowns slightly. "What is?"

"Sirius."

"Sirius?" Imogen raises her eyebrows. "What about him?"

"I, er," Lily begins, looking a bit sheepish, "I'd like to make him a cake."

"…a cake," repeats Imogen, slowly. "I see."

"We had a really nice chat last week," Lily explains, stirring her tea, "and I don't think he was really comfortable with it, but we still had it, and so I'd like to make him a cake."

"Ah. A reward," murmurs Imogen, nodding her understanding. "Though, I must say, I think Sirius is usually rather happy to have chats with you, dear. I think he enjoys them."

"Not ones like this one, Mrs Potter," Lily says, shaking her head.

Imogen sips her tea to cover her curiosity. "Oh?"

"It was rather… personal."

"Do you mean Sirius isn't usual personal?"

Lily looks vaguely uncomfortable. "It was about him and James, Mrs Potter."

"Imogen, dear," the older woman says automatically, then pauses. "Oh."

"Yeah."

Imogen looks thoughtful. "You know, I suspect that would probably be the first he's talked to anyone about the two of them."

"They didn't talk to you?" Lily asks, sounding rather surprised.

"Oh, they told me that they were together," Imogen hurriedly assures her, with a small smile. "They just didn't _talk_ to me about it. Actually, I think they might have been put off the whole idea, when I called their bickering foreplay."

"Oh, God," Lily says, laughing. "I'd have paid good money to see that."

Imogen looks a bit smug — there is a noticeable resemblance to her son. "Sirius was speechless."

"And James?"

"Squealed like a little girl."

Grinning, Lily shakes her head.

"If you're saying Sirius has been going around having deep, personal chats about my son, though, and I've missed out thanks to that comment, well…" Imogen makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "I'm not sure I got my money's worth, really."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was very adorable about it."

"Oh, dear," sighs Imogen, and she looks wistful. "Was he?" 

Nodding, Lily says, "He made me cry, even."

Imogen raises her eyebrows again. "How'd he manage that one?"

"Oh, he was all… mushy and adorable."

Now Imogen looks shocked. "You're… joking, right? Sirius is not mushy."

"I'm telling you, he was mushy!" Lily insists, nodding rather violently.

Imogen eyes her doubtfully.

"He said James was the most important thing on the planet," Lily tries.

"Well, I know he—" Imogen blinks rapidly. "Wait. You mean, he actually _said_ it?"

"Uh-huh."

Imogen looks surprised.

"Out loud and everything."

"Oh, my," says Imogen, a little faintly. "Did he say anything else, like… that?"

Lily smiles. "That was just the tip of the iceberg."

" _Really_?"

"Indeed."

"… You're not going to tell me, are you?"

Looking rather apologetic, Lily shakes her head. "I don't think I'd feel comfortable with that, Mrs Potter. I'm sorry."

"No, of course not." Imogen looks slightly disappointed, but otherwise resigned. "Not even the gist of it, I suppose?"

".... well," Lily begins. "They, um, they love each other."

Imogen laughs dryly. "I think we all knew that, dear."

"Yeah, but _they_ know it, too."

For a moment, Imogen looks surprised again. Then her eyes get misty and her smile trembles, just slightly. "Oh."

"I know," Lily agrees, looking rather sappy herself.

"They've — they've actually… _told_ each other?" Imogen questions, while staring into her nearly-empty cup and pretending she isn't teary-eyed.

"Heard it with my own two ears," Lily says with a smile. "And James didn't make any weird noises or turn an alarming shade of red, so I doubt it was the first time, either."

"Oh." Imogen actually _sniffles_. "Oh. That's so — I'm so happy. For them."

Lily reaches over to pat her hand. "So am I, Mrs Potter."

Imogen sniffs again, gently freeing her hand and reaching up to pat the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. "… what kind of cake did you have in mind, dear?"

"Well, I was thinking of your chocolate one…"

"I would have suggested that," nods Imogen, still looking a bit watery. "It's his favourite, you know."

"I know," Lily grins. "… are you all right?"

Imogen nods a couple of times. "Yes, dear, I'm fine. I just… I wasn't really sure they'd get this far, and I'm so _happy_ that they're… happy."

"They seem really happy," Lily agrees. "Sirius said he's never been this happy before."

"Well, I can easily believe _that_."

Lily's smile widens further. "Doesn't it seem a bit unreal to you?"

"How do you mean?"

"The two of them. Together."

"I suppose maybe a bit." Imogen smiles. "But I've had longer to get used to it."

"Well, still," Lily muses. "I was always kind of hoping they would go that way, you know, but I never actually thought they would."

"I suppose I didn't really, either," admits Imogen. "I mean, I could certainly see the possibility, in Sirius's case, but James… Well, that did catch me a bit off-guard, at first."

"That's what I said!"

"Really?"

Lily nods. "I guess I never thought… well…"

"James would, er, fly for that particular team?"

"Exactly."

"Neither did I." Imogen giggles a little, and swirls the tea in her cup. "But I suppose, if there was anyone who could get him to, well…"

"He could do worse," Lily agrees, grinning. "And besides that, I find it hard to believe that either of them would ever, you know, find someone who's…"

"…more likely to put up with them?"

"Not the words I was looking for, but it works."

Imogen smirks. "They are perfect for each other, aren't they?"

"If a bit obnoxious," Lily agrees. "And you're… fine with it, Mrs Potter?"

Taking a moment to consider the question, Imogen regards Lily seriously. "Yes, I am," she murmurs solemnly. "My boys are happy."

Lily takes her hand again. "I'm glad."

Imogen reaches over with her other hand and pats Lily's. "I am, of course, disappointed that I won't be getting grandchildren," she confesses, smiling dryly. "But it's a small price to pay."

"Oh, Mrs Potter, you never know," Lily says, rather seriously. "There's always adoption, right?"

Imogen stares at her like she's grown a second head. "Lily, dear," she says slowly, "you can't seriously imagine those two raising a child, can you?"

"… maybe when they're a bit older?" Lily tries. "Say.... forty?"

Imogen still looks skeptical. "You think Sirius will have grown up by then?"

Lily is trying very hard to keep a straight face. "Um."

"I think it might take a little longer," Imogen deadpans. "Maybe a few more decades."

Finally bursting out laughing, Lily nods. "Oh, God…"

Pulling away her hand to cover her grin with it, Imogen giggles.

"The poor child would probably be raising _him_ by the age of five!"

"Not that I expect a child would have more luck than Aldwyn and I did…"

Lily's expression softens into a affectionate smile. "You two did a great job, Mrs Potter. With both of them."

Cheeks turning a little pink, Imogen smiles proudly. "Thank you, dear. I like to think so."

Smiling back at for a moment, Lily finally says, "Well, I won't take up any more of your time, Mrs Potter."

"Oh," exclaims Imogen, standing suddenly. "The recipe! You'll be needing that, won't you, dear? I'm so sorry, it slipped my mind."

"Don't worry about it, Mrs Potter," Lily says, standing as well. "It was really nice to get a chance to talk to you."

Imogen has crossed to the counter, and is rifling through a small, cheery box of what appear to be recipe cards. "You as well, Lily. You're welcome any time, you know."

"I appreciate that, Mrs Potter."

"I do mean it, dear," insists Imogen, with a warm smile. Finding the card for the chocolate cake, she pulls it out; with a wave of her wand she duplicates it, and hands the copy to Lily. "I like to think of you as something of the daughter Aldwyn and I never had." Her smile turns a little wistful. "You're certainly the closest I'm likely to get… unless one wants to count Sirius."

"Don't let him hear you say that; I don't think he'd appreciate it much," Lily says with a small laugh. "Thank you, Mrs Potter."

Imogen just keeps smiling. "You're welcome, dear."

Taking a step closer to her, Lily pulls the older woman into a gentle hug, which Imogen returns, looking a little misty for the second time that afternoon. After a moment, she pulls away and murmurs, "Now. Go make Sirius that cake."

"All right," Lily says, pulling away. "You take care now, Mrs Potter, all right?"

"Of course. You too, Lily."

Lily nods as she walks towards the front door. "And thank you so much for the recipe, I really appreciate it."

Smiling, Imogen follows her. "Not a problem. You let me know how your cake turns out, all right?"

"If I get a chance to sample it before Sirius wolfs it all down, that is."

"True. If nothing else, the speed at which he consumes it ought to be a good indicator," Imogen laughs.

"Indeed," Lily agrees. "All right, I'd better get home, see to Remus, all that."

"Goodbye, dear."

With a wave, Lily Disapparates.

For a minute, Imogen continues to smile at the spot where Lily'd been standing, then, sighing to herself, she turns back to the kitchen, and her animated garden statuary.

* * *

**Wednesday, 18 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's okay to date out of your league? I want to ask this girl out, and I think she might like me, but she's way too pretty for me and I'm not sure I should even try. What do you think? /Beast** Dear Beast, Sure, I think it's perfectly okay. Looks are only skin-deep, after all. I think you ought to go for it! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If dogs could talk, what do you think they'd say? /Caesar** Dear Caesar, Oh, trust me, you don't want to know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you and James ever dated the same girl (not necessarily at the same time)? If so, how did that turn out for you? /Curious** Dear Curious, No, not really. Normally, by the time a girl's relationship with either of us ends, she realises it'd be pointless to try for the other. Or possibly she has just been around us long enough to realise that she doesn't _want_ to. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think stalking can ever be attractive? /Dido** Dear Dido, Um. No, not really. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the most romantic thing you've ever done? And what is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for you? /Cupid** Dear Cupid, You know, I don't really feel comfortable answering this question. But for some reason, I keeps appearing back in the stack along with the ones I mean to answer, despite that I've rejected it — and my editor and her assistant keep discovering that they've remembered important appointments, whenever I ask them about it. So it looks like I have to answer, anyway. I think the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, leaving aside them actually feeling the DESIRE to be romantic, was admit they love me — where someone else could hear them. As for my most romantic thing? Why, I resisted the lure of sticky toffee pudding and chocolate. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just asked out this boy I really fancy and it didn't go well at all. In fact he laughed at me for a full minute straight and then when he realised I was serious he got mad and stalked off! Please, I don't know what to do -- I've been working up the nerve to ask him all year! What do I do now? /Reject** Dear Reject, Set his pants on fire? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you take your coffee? /Bean** Dear Bean, Black, naturally. Har har. No, really, lately I like it full of milk and sugar. Mostly sugar. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Recently I have started to lose interest in my husband on the carnal plane, as it were. I still consider him my best friend and we have loads of fun together, but the idea of being intimate with him rather... makes me feel ill. What do you think I should do about it? /Kate** Dear Kate, I think you should talk to him. See if there maybe isn't something the two of you could do about it... or if you'll just have to see if you can manage to go on with your lives without making love. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a friend who's pregnant but will not give up on cigarettes and alcohol. Should I talk to her about this? I am really concerned about the health of her unborn child. /E.N.** Dear Eenee, DEFINITELY talk to her! She does not have the right to endanger the health of her baby like that, and as a concerned party close to the situation, you ought to consider it your responsibility to step in and speak up for the baby. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have these two friends who are obviously meant to be together. Everyone can see it... except for the two of them! They seem completely oblivious despite the fact that if it were anymore obvious it would smack you in the face. Should I bring this up to them? If so, should I do it separately or together? /Clarity** Dear Clarity, Yes, bring it up! Here's a nice suggestion — the next time you're around both of them, calmly ask them if they're shagging yet. Then, without waiting for them to answer, inform them that if they aren't, they should be. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 20 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it possible to have eyes with no pupils? /Awed** Dear Awed, I don't _think_ so... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it counts as cheating when you find yourself fantasising about someone other than your partner, if it never goes any further than that? /Wandering gaze** Dear Wandering, Yes. It's called mental infidelity and it can be just as bad for a relationship as actually physically cheating. I do not recommend it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am currently pregnant with twins and my husband thinks it'd be a great idea for us to give them names that are the mirror images of each other. For a boy/girl pair he wants Aaron and Nora, for two girls Agnes and Senga, and for two boys (get ready for this) Jack and Kai. Please help me convince him that this is NOT the best idea ever? /Mum-to-be** Dear Mum-to-be, ... Clearly your husband is slightly deranged. (No offense, of course.) Perhaps threatening him with nasty things if he doesn't see sense would persuade him that he's lost it a bit, and that mirror names are a bad idea. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's ever a good idea to date a co-worker? /Dwight** Dear Dwight, Sure, I suppose, as long as they're not the kind of co-worker that you see _constantly_ while at work... because if things don't go well, that could end badly. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really want to become a Muggle actress, because Hollywood seems really shiny. How do I go about achieving stardom? /Rima** Dear Rima, It does, doesn't it? I think the standardly accepted method of achieving the starlet dream is to sleep with all the men in charge of everything. However, I do not encourage this — use a simple Confundus, it carries fewer risks of communicable diseases, and will probably work better anyway. Good luck! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I want to try out for my house Quidditch team next year and I was thinking I should probably prepare over the summer. Only problem is I have no idea HOW to prepare! Can you give me any hints? /Wannabe Chaser** Dear Wannabe, What, you mean you don't know how to PRACTICE? Try putting a couple of baskets in the branches of a tree and throwing a ball through them. I don't know! I'm hardly a Chaser. And as far as I know, most of James Potter's summer practices consisted of flying obsessively every day and occasionally screaming impatiently at those of us less fortunately gifted with a broom Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you believe that bisexuality is real, or just something made up by really randy people who want a larger group to choose from? /Not convinced** Dear Not, Um. I have to confess that I'm kind of, er, amazed at your question... but yes, I do believe bisexuality exists. Why, er, wouldn't it? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, With summer coming up, I have a really embarrassing problem: I am 16 years old and I don't know how to swim. My best friend has just invited me to spend a month with her family on the French riviera — how do I hide this from her when we're going to be at the beach every day?! /Sinking** Dear Sinking, Is there some reason you can't just admit that you don't know how to swim... but would love to learn? That's the only surefire embarrassment-free route I can think of. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really dislike shaving. Is there some kind of spell or something that can get rid of the pesky hair permanentely? /Scratchy** Dear Scratchy, I don't know of any _spells_ , but I hear that the apothecary in Diagon Alley carries a really nifty potion (the kind you don't ingest, of course) that'll keep your face hair-free for a whole week... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What question do you get asked the most? /Gari** Dear Gari, Ah. Well. You'd be amazed at the number of women who write in asking me to marry them. Sirius  
---


	32. 23–29 April 1984

**Monday, 23 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, HELP I THINK I HAVE CANCER!! I recently discovered this big red lump on my chin and now I'm afraid I'm dying. I've always had perfect skin so I don't know what else it could be!!! I'm really scared, do you think I should see a Healer? /Atianna, 13** Dear Atianna, Relax. You do not have cancer. One word: Pimple. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. My husband and I have been married for nearly ten years and we're very happy, but lately he's been bugging me to let him, shall we say, enter through the backdoor and not the front. I am feeling very hesitant about this; what should I tell him? /Not convinced** Dear Not, Well, if you're not sure, you're not sure. Just tell him that! And remember that you're under no obligation to do anything with which you feel uncomfortable. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband and I are getting a dog. I want a big one and he wants a small one. What breed should we pick as a compromise? /H.S.** Dear Hiss, Why don't you get two dogs? A St Bernard for you, and a Chihuahua for your husband! Or, well, a terrier, or something. They're not too small, are they? I don't really know — my experience is really limited to my dog, and he's a mongrel. Total mutt! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My dad says I'm not allowed to eat bananas in public. Why do you think this is? /Stacie, 16** Dear Stacie, Probably because you're too, er, good at it. Or maybe he just objects to the size of your bites. Have you asked your boyfriend for his opinion? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm the proud father of three daughters and my wife and I are thinking of trying for baby #4. We'd both really like a boy this time for obvious reasons. Do you know if there are any ways of achieving this? /XX Only?** Dear XXX, Hm, why don't you try being especially masculine during the conception process? I think that's about all you can do — I have a feeling biology doesn't really care for your preference. It's not exactly something you can control, is it? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, A friend just told me she's in love with me. I love her a lot but only as a friend, but I really don't want to hurt her feelings! I told her I needed to think about it; this was a couple of days ago. How should I break it to her gently? /Brutus** Dear Brutus, Try telling her what you just told me! Seriously, there is no truly "gentle" way to tell someone who cares that deeply for you that you don't feel the same way about them as they do about you. It's best just to be as honest and straightforward as possible. It's going to feel like a stab in the back either way. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My girlfriend turns into a raving bitch every month and blames it all on PMS. Is this really a proper excuse? I realise it makes you irritable, but she threw a toaster at my head last time!! /Bruised boyfriend** Dear Bruisee, Well. Did you deserve the toaster? I know a woman who does occasionally become rather feral once a month — I call her a werewoman, which is rather more ironic than not — but she doesn't USUALLY inflict bodily harm unless it is deserved. Still. PMS does crazy things to women. It's probably not her fault... mostly. Whether it's a proper one or not, it isn't the kind of excuse you can exactly ARGUE with, is it? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My parents just got divorced and they want me and my brother to spend half of the holidays with dad and half with mum. However I'd much rather spend all of them with just mum! How can I tell dad this without really upsetting him? /Amie** Dear Amie, How about you go on and on about how, as a growing girl, you need more time with your mother than your father — unless he wants to answer all your questions about your developing body, and put up with your unstable hormonal state? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What would you do if you found out you had a child you didn't know about? /Carmen** Dear Carmen, Die of shock, probably; I've always been extremely careful to avoid such possibilities. On the other hand, I'd probably die of fear; any child sired by me would probably be an absolute TERROR. Only a very, very, incredibly adorable terror. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think getting to sleep on your preferred side of the bed is important in a relationship? What side of the bed do you sleep on? /Picky** Dear Picky, Well, I think it depends why you prefer your side of the bed. If it's something silly like simply preferring it because it's closer to the alarm clock or the window or something, then no, I don't think it's that important. I mean, if you can't comprise over something little like that, your relationship's probably doomed, anyway. As for which side of the bed _I_ sleep on... the right. It's farther from the window, the most likely source of danger, which isn't exactly manly of me but what can you do. I get less sun in the morning, at least! Besides... that is where I'm used to having the edge. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wendesday, 25 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just had a birthday and my husband got me a necklace that was probably hideously expensive. He's so pleased with himself and wants me to wear it all the time. However, I hate it! It's so foul and tacky and I just cannot stand to wear it, but if I told my husband this it would break his heart! What should I do? /Spoiled** Dear Spoiled, Clearly, you don't have that many options here. Since you can't stand to wear it, he's obviously going to be disappointed when he sees that you aren't. Yet you say his heart will break if you TELL him you don't want to wear it. Since you have to do one of the two — or else suck it up and wear the hideous thing — I think it might be best to go the route that involves communication. Gently explain that the necklace isn't your style, and offer to let him exchange it for something more along the lines of your personal taste. Or else, stage a robbery and pretend it's been stolen. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Something really embarrassing happened to me at school last week and now I want to leave Hogwarts and change schools. How do you go about doing this? What other school would you recommend? /Outcast** Dear Outcast, I think you need parental consent and assistance to transfer. Also I think it's probably ridiculously difficult, unless your family is moving. Probably you should just suck it up. Maybe cause something even more embarrassing to happen to someone else, so everyone will forget about YOUR embarrassment. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I heard a rumour that you're an owl animagus. Is there any truth to this? /Luah** Dear Luah, No, I am not an owl animagus, not at all. What slander! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm trying to quit smoking but it's so hard!! I only lasted six hours without a smoke and that's just not good enough. Do you know of any good ways to kicking the habit for good? /Smokie** Dear Smokie, Find yourself an intimidating little old lady and a terrifying redhead who both insist you not smoke anymore as it is disgusting and unhealthy? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I love my girlfriend very much but there is one problem: she smells really, really bad! I don't think she's quite got the concept of personal hygiene down. As you can imagine this makes cuddling and things of that nature somewhat awkward. How do I tell her that this is bothering me, without making her really mad? /Numb-nosed** Dear Numb, I don't think there's a way to do that without angering her. At least, I can't think of any. Better to just brace yourself for the explosion, and dive headfirst into the stinky issue. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife and I have two children and recently they've been acting very naughty. I believe that the only way to make them behave is through spanking, but my wife is completely opposed to this and refuses to let me near them with the rod. The children are 1 and 2 years old. What can I tell her to make her see she's being soft and unreasonable? /Concerned father** Dear Concerned, Children that young are always very naughty. I don't necessary think that spanking is the best way to go about it, though, and I hardly think your wife is being "soft", as you put it, or "unreasonable" — it's hardly unreasonable to not want to hurt your children. Have you tried time-outs? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you REALLY what you eat?! /Hamburger Hank** Dear Hammy, I certainly HOPE not! Though now I think about it, it wouldn't be that bad to turn into a pile of sweets... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My partner and I want to spice things up a bit and we're thinking that maybe a threesome is the way to do this. However we have no idea where to find the third person needed! Maybe you can help? /Threeway Freeway** Dear Spicy, I can't decide if that was an invitation, or simply an innocent query. If the former, the answer is no, and if the latter... the answer is still no. I don't think I can help. I have never in my life propositioned anyone for a threesome, and the only times it's ever happened the other way 'round were all rather blunt and out of the blue. Maybe that's how you're supposed to do it? Find an attractive person at the grocery store and ask them how they feel about threesomes? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm a man in my mid-30s and I have a really embarrassing problem. I just keep breaking into tears all the time! I cry at least once a day -- at home, at work, out on the town... anything can set me off. Please help, this is a huge problem for me!! /Jack** Dear Jackie, Er, maybe you ought to, er, stock up on hankies? Or reorganise your life so that you're less stressed out? Or maybe you should just accept that you're a sensitive person, and avoid people who might find the crying odd. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it possible to give yourself up for adoption? /Neena** Dear Neena, Technically, I think no. You can always run away, though! I did, and that worked out rather well. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 27 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are blue balls actually real or is this just something that boys make up in order to get lucky? /Doubtful** Dear Doubtful, I'm sorry to say that they are, in fact, real. Unfortunately. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever gone on the tube? If so, where did you go? What did you think of it? /Bakerloo Babe** Dear BB, I've gone on the tube a couple of times. I thought it was fascinating! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am visiting Sweden this summer and I was wondering if it's true that they really have polar bears walking around on the streets? Because that sounds sort of dangerous and I'm not sure I want to go! Also, how much snow do you think I can expect? I'm going in July. /Henry** Dear Henry, Um, no, I don't think they have polar bears walking around the streets. Somehow I think the people in charge wouldn't allow that sort of dangerous behaviour to continue. Probably the polar bears drive cars and take the train just like everybody else. As for the snow, unless you're going to somewhere up in the middle of mountainous nowhere, you most likely won't run into any. I don't think. Even Sweden's not that cold. I don't think. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's a good idea to speak two languages to your children? I am German and my husband is British (we live in the UK) and we have a three-month old child. My husband wishes for me to speak German to the baby so that she can learn both languages, but I'm worried I'll just end up confusing her and have her not know either language properly! What do you think? /Anneliese** Dear Anneliese, I'm going to side with your husband here. I heard somewhere that humans use the largest percentage of their brain within the first few years of their life, which is what allows them to develop at the rate they do, and I kind of figure that if that's true, the BEST time for someone to learn a second language is when they're a baby. And you want to give your child the change to be special and bilingual, don't you? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I found this utterly strange Muggle contraption called a kelk-y-later. Do you have any idea what it's used for? /Confused** Dear Confused, I think it's what they use for performing "magic" with numbers. Their accountants use them to facilitate tax evasion. You might want to get rid of it before someone catches you with it and thinks you're doing naughty things with your finances! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am writing in concerning the letter from "Not convinced" on Monday. Shame on her husband for suggesting such a horrible thing! The back door is for taking rubbish out only, not entering the house through! She's perfectly right to decline his request. Her husband ought to be ashamed of himself for even thinking it, much less asking it of her! Whatever happened to people's morals and standards? /Elizabeth** Dear Elizabeth, Thank you for your, er, elegantly expressed opinion. As for people's morals, I think they've probably flown out the, er, backdoor, as it were. Along with the rubbish. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently moved to Australia and I am such a big fan of your column that I have the paper delivered here to Mooloolaba! It only gets here a week later, so the news are completely out-of-date, but I don't really care. I just thought I'd write in and let you know that you have at least one reader down under! Have you ever vistited Australia? /Oz** Dear Oz, Why, how flattering! I am impressed with your level of fanaticism. Deeply so! Unfortunately, no, I've never been to Australia — but I've heard some rather frightening stories about it. Like how there are supposed to be spiders as big as my head. Are there? And how do you manage not to get eaten by crocodiles? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a very embarrassing problem. I stuck a pea up my nose to see what would happen, and, well, it got stuck up there. The more I try to get it out the further I wedge it up there! Do you reckon this is dangerous? Should I see a Healer or just wait until the pea shrivels up and falls out on its own? /Jason, aged 24** Dear Jason, I want to say that I'm appalled that you could even get yourself INTO such a situation, but part of me is being impressed anyway, so clearly I'm not as grown up as I thought I was. I'm tempted to tell you to go see a Healer, because while it doesn't sound _dangerous_ walking around with a pea up your nose doesn't sound _healthy_ either, but I cringe just thinking about how embarrassing that would be. Maybe you should try, say, Accio-ing the pea? Gently, of course... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your biggest annoyance right now? /U.L.** Dear Yule, I haven't been laid recently enough. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you feel about PDA? My best friends and their respective partners are always all over each other -- in fact while we were playing board games at my house the other night, one of them actually stuck their hand down their boyfriend's pants right in front of us! I don't mind a bit of hand-holding and maybe a (brief) kiss here or there, but come on! Am I being a total prude about this? /Emily** Dear Emily, No, you're not. Public displays of affection are all right, when they're _mild_ , and confined to the sort of place where they're, well, appropriate. I generally go by the rule that if your mother (or in my case, my not-mother) wouldn't want to see it, you shouldn't do it where _anyone_ can see. Exhibitionists who show off because their friends enjoy it are a different matter altogether, though. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_The Evening Prophet's 20 Stupid Questions with an Employee, this week featuring... Sirius Black! A sports writer and advise columnist, Mr Black (see headshot) has been put in the hotseat by last week's contributor, his column editor Thora Gale._

**1) What colour pants are you wearing?** Black.  
 **2) What is your mother's maiden name?** Black. The same as my father's. Tsk.  
 **3) How many best friends have you got?** I suppose I ought to say three, but... _Best_ best friends? One.  
 **4) What size shoes do you wear?** 11\. The same as James, actually.  
 **5) What have you got in your pockets?** My wand, my wallet, my keys, a bit of string, two pieces of gum, a note telling me to please make my bed, a shopping list, and some lint.  
 **6) How often do you shave?** Once a day, usually. The five o'clock shadow is not my favourite look. On me.  
 **7) Would you eat a spider for ten Galleons?** Er, no. I don't have an especial dislike of spiders, and there's a lot of things I'd do for ten Galleons, but I don't really see the point of _eating_ a _spider_. Especially as it would probably mean no kisses for awhile...  
 **8) Have you ever said the wrong name to a lover?** Yeah, a few times. In the way where I said someone else's name while I was with them and they thought I was actually talking _to_ them, and not _about_ someone else. The women would all probably have slapped me, except I think they were all rather confused. Poor things.  
 **9) Do you have any hidden talents?** Yes. And if I told you, they wouldn't be hidden anymore, would they?  
 **10) What is your favourite word?** In all honesty, I don't really have one. I do like to say 'Mine!' though.  
 **11) What is the most typically British thing about you?** Not bad teeth, that's for sure.  
 **12) Is your signature legible at all?** Not especially. It sort of looks like... a big S, a squiggle that ends with a little S, and then a big ol' B with a slash after it, a couple of loops, and a spiky, uneven X. I like it, personally.  
 **13) When was the last time you kissed someone?** This morning, before work.  
 **14) If you could be truly invisible for a whole day, what would you do?** You really don't want to know. I mean, _really_. Unless, of course, you don't mind a bit of law-bending here and there...  
 **15) Floo powder, broomstick or Apparating?** NOT broomstick. Apparation, please.  
 **16) If you could change one thing about your appearance, what would it be and why?** ... I wouldn't change anything. Why would I want to? If _you_ looked like me, would _you_ want to?  
 **17) What is your owl called?** Boopsy. His name is Rothgar, though.  
 **18) What is your best trait?** I am charming.  
 **19) What is your worst trait?** I have a bit of a nasty temper and I can be a little, erm, vicious. And impatient. And possibly rabidly jealous.  
 **20) Describe your job in one word!** Easy.

_Next Week: Answers from Elphius Erkmile, night janitor!_

* * *

_**London, England  
29 April 1984  
4.22 pm** _

"Congratulations, again, Sofie," Sirius says warmly, leaning in to catch the hand of a pretty blonde in a set of long, white dress robes and pull her in for a quick half-hug. "Your husband is a lucky bugger, and it was a lovely wedding. Thank you for inviting me."

Sofie's already dazzling smile intensifies even more. "Leaving already, Sirius?"

The smile Sirius flashes back at her is only slightly less brilliant than hers. "Unfortunately. I think I'd better."

"You did have cake, didn't you?"

"Of course! Two pieces!" Sirius laughs, and raises the hand he's holding to kiss the back of her white glove. "It was chocolate, you know."

"I do know," Sofie laughs. "I picked it myself!" Turning around, she calls, "Auren! Come say goodbye to Sirius!"

Turning his head at her cry, a tallish, blonde man detaches himself from a small knot of wedding guests and ambles over, a slight, polite smile on his face. "Why?" he asks cheerfully, reaching Sofie's other side and slipping an arm around her waist. "My wife seems to be all over that chore." Glancing at Sirius, he obediently adds, "Goodbye, Sirius."

"A well-trained old man you've caught yourself," remarks Sirius, to Sofie, with a grin. " _You're_ a lucky bugger, too."

Sofie turns to her husband, grinning wider than ever. Auren's lips twitch slightly. "I suppose I ought to thank you for that?" he asks.

"Only if you'd like." Dropping Sofie's hand, Sirius reaches over and offers his to Auren, a serious look settling in his eyes. "Really, I mean it. Congratulations, to you both."

"Thank you," Sofie says softly, finally tearing her eyes away from Auren. "And thank you for coming."

"Yes," agrees Auren, and his cheerfulness looks slightly more genuine, as he accepts Sirius's offered hand and shakes it. "It was… interesting… to finally meet you."

"Thank _you_ , for inviting me," counters Sirius, starting to grin again.

"Enough, or we'll be here all day!"

Auren shakes his head a little at his new wife, and Sirius laughs at the couple. "Right, then. I'm off. Toodles, Sof."

Laughing once more, Sofie just waves at him. Still grinning, Sirius makes his way through the crowd toward the door, waving at a few other guests as he goes.

Most are people he went to Hogwarts with. The majority of them wave back, a couple call farewells, and one, a slender strawberry blonde in a bridesmaid's dress, smiles hugely and moves as if she's going to intercept him.

His grin stiffening slightly, Sirius quickens his pace, slipping out the door and drawing his wand. He Disapparates just as the bridesmaid reaches the door.

He reappears, safe and unmolested, in his front hall, and breaths a sigh of relief.

"Si?"

"Hi," replies Sirius following the voice into the living room, putting away his wand as he walks.

"You're early," James states, mouth half-full of crisps. There is a half-empty beer bottle between his tracksuit bottom clad legs; it appears as though he's spilled quite a lot of it on the rather frayed jumper he's wearing on top.

Sirius's expression goes from slight relief to severe exasperation. "And I thought _he_ was supposed to be the neat freak," he mutters.

"He can hear you, you know."

Sirius ignores this. "I got bored," he declares, responding to James's earlier statement. "And tired of running away from Rowanda."

"I'm taking full advantage of being a bachelor for one night," James explains, sitting up a little straighter and pulling his legs towards him, so that there's room for Sirius on the sofa. "Rowanda Kane was there?"

Sirius frowns a bit, but takes a seat in the space James has cleared for him. "Of course; she was one of the bridesmaids."

"She still drools at the very sight of you?"

"And hyperventilates," Sirius confirms, with an expressive grimace.

James pokes his leg with a foot. "Should have told her you're taken."

Sirius laughs a little. "Why, so I could be bombarded with questions about why I didn't bring 'her'?" he asks, leaning back and propping his feet on the coffee table. "No, thank you."

"How was the ceremony?" James asks with a slight frown, after a moment of silence.

"Charming, and cloyingly touching," answers Sirius, while reaching up to loosen the collar of his dress robes. "I think Sofie was actually _crying_ for part of it. I know her mother was."

A small smile plays at the corners of James's mouth, despite the frown. "You're one to talk."

"If you mean my cousin's wedding, that doesn't count." Having now kicked his shoes off onto the floor and finally settled comfortably into the couch, Sirius notices the look on James's face. He matches it with a tiny frown of his own. "What?"

Shaking his head, James offers him the beer bottle. Sirius waves it away, muttering something about wedding champagne and chocolate cake. "What's the matter with you?"

"'M being a slob."

"That wasn't what I meant."

James raises an eyebrow at him.

Sighing, Sirius leans closer, reaching over and touching two fingers to the corner of James's mouth. "You're frowning."

"It's nothing."

"James."

Looking away from him, James sighs slightly. "You're not — embarrassed, are you?"

"Embarrassed by what?" asks Sirius, looking a little confused.

"I mean, that's not why you didn't want me to come?"

In response, Sirius rolls his eyes, withdrawing his hand. "Oh, is that what you thought?"

"… not really."

"Well, I'm not embarrassed." Sirius flicks a bit of slightly longish hair off his forehead, then grins. "I just don't like to share."

James rolls his eyes, mouth twitching slightly. "And who would want to share this?" he asks, gesturing at his outfit. "What a catch, eh?"

"Underneath the tasteless clothes, yeah," agrees Sirius, smirking.

"You say that now, but I am working on a crisps'n'beer belly, just you watch, Sirius Black."

"Never," retorts Sirius unconcernedly. "Your coach'd kill you."

Laughing fully at this, James finally sits up straight, brushing crisp fragments off his jumper and leaning towards Sirius. "You have an answer for everything, don't you."

"Mostly," agrees Sirius, chuckling.

"Are you savouring the taste of expensive and frilly wedding cake?" James asks, leaning in even closer.

Sirius regards him solemnly. "Well, it _was_ chocolate…"

"Ah," nods James, his movements stalling. "I probably shouldn't ruin it with vinegar and salt, then, should I?"

Sirius tilts his head to one side slightly, eyes drifting down to James's lips. "Not particularly _good_ chocolate cake, though," he admits. "Yours is much better."

"You mean, Guido from round the corner's is much better?"

"I prefer to think of it as yours," declares Sirius haughtily, "as I never buy it for myself, and Guido looks like a rather bald monkey."

"Don't let him hear you say that, you'd break his heart!" James exclaims, his mock-serious tone betrayed by the look on his face.

"That would be too bad," mutters Sirius, and he seems to be inching closer to James. "He might not make me cake anymore. I'd have to settle for vinegar and salt."

"What a tragedy that'd be."

Sirius's gaze is still on James's mouth, and his tongue darts out over his lips. "Oh, I don't know…"

The smile on James's mouth widens as he leans in even closer, until his lips just barely graze Sirius's. Tilting his head so their mouths slide more definitely together, Sirius lifts a hand, curling it around the back of James's neck.

Kissing him rather lazily for a few moments, James pulls back with a mumbled "Hey".

Sirius has his eyes closed. His fingers tighten, briefly. "Mm."

"So who else was there?"

"Oh… people…" murmurs Sirius, lazily, leaning his head back against the couch. He doesn't open his eyes, or let go of James.

"Oh, people," James echoes, still grinning. "You tired?"

"Of people, yes."

"Should I leave you alone, then?" The tone in which James asks this suggests that he knows what the answer will be.

The question succeeds in getting Sirius to crack his eyes open, and he peers disdainfully at James. "Don't be absurd," he murmurs, as his fingers tighten on James's neck again.

"What, I'm not people?"

"No, you are — you're just the good kind."

James raises an eyebrow at him. Sirius smiles slightly. "You, my dear, do not require _charming_."

"Are you calling me easy, Sirius Black?"

"Maybe," Sirius laughs.

"I am not _easy_ ," James counters. "Just look how long it took you to land me."

It is Sirius's turn to raise an eyebrow. "… before or after I started trying?"

"When did you start trying?"

"After Lils told us to shag."

"See? Not easy," James says, sounding rather proud of himself. "I lasted a whole half an hour, at least!"

Both of Sirius's eyebrows rise this time. "Self-control, indeed."

"I am practically a saint and all that."

"For resisting me for an entire half an hour?" Sirius looks to be on the very edge of laughter. "All hail Saint Potter!"

"You shut your gob, Sirius Black," James says, leaning in for another quick kiss. "So what's Sofie's new name, then?"

"Mrs Audley."

Leaning back and looking rather surprised, James asks, "She married Astor Audley?"

"No, the brother," corrects Sirius, languidly. The hand at James's throat has slipped down to his chest, where Sirius's long, pale fingers are picking absently at the sweater. "The older one."

"Isn't he ancient?"

Sirius chuckles, once. "Positively," he agrees, a little dryly. "But he seems a decent bloke." A pause. "Anyway, I never saw Sofie smile like that, so she must not mind."

"Well then." After a pause, James adds, "She's still gorgeous, I presume?"

"Oh, yes," agrees Sirius, and there's a different note to his voice, making it sound a bit more lighthearted. "More than ever, possibly. All… all _sparkly_."

"Sparkly?" James repeats, sounding rather amused. "And to think, all that could have been yours, mate."

"Merlin, I'd go blind!" But despite his vaguely scornful amusement, Sirius looks slightly alarmed.

"Look on the bright side," James quips, grinning. "You'd never have to wear jewellery, with her as Mrs Black."

Sirius's eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and the corners of his lips quiver, as if he can't decide whether he wants to smile or frown. "That… that was _dreadful_ , James."

"What was?"

"Wives are not accessories," Sirius explains, mock sternly. His lips are still twitching.

"Mistresses, then?"

"Those are _entertainment_."

Still grinning, James raises his eyebrows. "What do you use as decoration, then?"

Sirius pauses to consider this thoughtfully.

"Aside from Mathilda, I mean."

"Well." Another, shorter pause. "Do I really _need_ decoration?"

James rolls his eyes. "Wouldn't change a thing about your appearance, eh?"

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "Would you?" he counters.

"'Course I would, have you seen my nose?"

"Not what I meant. _Me_." Sirius hesitates a moment, then flashes a wide smile. " _Would_ you?" The question seems to be a serious one, despite his smile.

James pretends to ponder this for a moment. "Does having really cold feet count as part of your appearance?"

Almost unnoticeably, Sirius relaxes a little further against the couch. "No," he replies lightly, "it doesn't."

"Then no."

Sirius's smile becomes perceptibly more radiant. "See?" he says, flipping a hand palm up and gesturing loosely toward his own chest. "No point changing me."

"Don't get smug about it," James says, leaning back as well, turning his head to look at Sirius. "Note to make your bed?"

"… What did you do, make a list of all the things you wanted to interrogate me about?" demands Sirius, an exasperated edge to his voice. However, his cheeks have gone the slightest bit pink.

Grinning, James produces a rather beer-stained piece of parchment from between the sofa cushions.

Sirius's eyes pop wider. "Bloody hell, you _did_!"

Laughing, James takes a look at the note, and then reads out loud, very clearly, "This morning, before work".

Sirius shrugs, his cheeks back to their normal colour. "What's wrong with that?" he asks. "It was the truth."

"You do realise you'll get a bazillion letters asking who the lucky recipient was?"

"Oh, please, it's not the first time I made that kind of remark."

James raises an eyebrow at him again.

"Besides." Sirius shrugs again and smirks. "I don't care."

Chuckling, James shakes his head. Then, after a pause, "Note, Si?"

"Damn," mutters Sirius, looking just the tiniest bit annoyed. "Stupid _list_."

"Mhm."

"What about it?" Sirius asks, more loudly.

"Just how _old_ is it?" James asks, shifting so that his head is resting on Sirius's shoulder. "And why're you carrying it around?"

"It, er, could be… Er. Well. You've written me hundreds of the damn things," hedges Sirius, ignoring the second question completely. He's tipped his head up to look at the ceiling, as if to hide the fact that his face is still ever-so-slightly pink.

James looks up at him sideways. "I haven't written you one in months."

"Haven't you?" Sirius replies vaguely.

"You know I haven't," James replies, turning a little further to nuzzle his neck. Sirius doesn't answer, but his heart beats a little faster.

"It is from me, then?"

Sirius's head jerks down and around so swiftly he almost cracks the other man on the head with his jaw. "James!"

"Watch it!"

"Sorry," Sirius apologises quickly. Then, "Of course it's from you."

Sliding down to a safer position with his head on Sirius's lap, James shrugs. "You never know. Maybe it's a really old one from mum. Or McGonagall."

"Oh." The muscles on Sirius's jaw tighten; it looks like he might be gritting his teeth slightly. "Right."

James observes him in silence for a moment. "I'll write you one tomorrrow, if you'd like."

"No!" Sirius protests quickly, looking rather horrified. Immediately, his face flushes slightly again.

"Why not?"

"I…" Sirius's blush grows a little darker, and he stops. In a deeper, barely audible voice, he mutters, "I don't want you writing more notes."

"Do they bother you?" James asks, frowning slightly. "Did. Whatever."

"No, they didn't," Sirius admits quietly. "I thought they were… But regardless, I'd much rather hear your voice than read a stupid old note."

"Oh."

Reaching down, Sirius fiddles with James's hair, his pale fingers twisting through the black strands and back out, then through again. "It's the last," he says, abruptly.

"Last what?" James asks, looking up at him over the rims of his glasses, unconsciously pressing his head closer to Sirius's hand. 

"That you wrote me," Sirius explains, his grey eyes intent on his hand in James's hair. "Before… this."

"… oh," James says again, rather softer than before. 

Sirius doesn't say anything else, just goes on watching his fingers.

"And you've —"

Sirius clears his throat loudly. "You're not going to write me anymore," he says, as if this is an explanation.

"All right," James agrees, barely more than a whisper.

"So I saved it." Not giving James a chance to absorb this statement, Sirius bends down to press a quick, fierce kiss to his lips.

"I don't suppose," says James, eyes closed, "that you want this one?"

"… James, that one smells like beer."

Laughing, James throws the piece of parchment in question to the floor. "That it does."

Sirius leans forward, peering down at it. "What else did it say, anyway?" he wonders aloud.

"'Where did you put the exploding snap deck?'"

"… _what_?"

"That's what it said," James explains rather lazily. "Being a slob bachelor gets really dull after a while, you know."

Sirius musters a frown and directs it at James. "And you think I'd let you mess around with my snap deck while I wasn't here?"

Grinning, James turns his head a little towards Sirius's lap. "You let me mess around with things that are much dearer to you, don't you?"

Sirius's eyes gleam hotly, and his smile turns a little mischievous. "But you're not likely to damage _those_ , are you?

"Definitely not." Flashing a quick grin up at him, James adds, "And you're always around to, ah, supervise."

"Indeed." Sirius nods solemnly, but the grey of his eyes has gone rather dark and burning. "Was that it on the list, then?"

"Mm. That, and we need more beer."

"You drank it all?" exclaims Sirius, sounding a little incredulous. "I just bought a six pack yesterday."

"You were gone for a long time!" James defends himself. "And, well, I spilled a whole bottle so that one doesn't count."

"I was gone for three hours," Sirius counters crisply. "Well, and forty-seven minutes. But… five bottles of beer?" The look on his face has become rather calculating.

"This one's not quite empty yet," James says, holding it up and shaking it a little to demonstrate. "See?"

"I do see," says Sirius. "You'd better finish it."

"Why?"

"You don't look like it's had enough of an effect."

"Just exactly what kind of effect are you after here, Sirius Black?"

Sirius smirks. "Oh— I was just thinking how fun you are when you're drunk."

"I'm fun when I'm sober, too," James says, moving even closer to Sirius's lap. "Want me to prove it?"

"Are you?" Sirius asks, bending down a little. "Sober? Completely, I mean."

"No."

"How not-sober are you?" asks Sirius, dropping his head even further.

"Not-sober enough to consider risking the pristine whiteness of my sofa?" James suggests, looking up at him with a rather wicked look in his eyes.

The desire which had been banked firmly behind the heat in Sirius's eyes, washes abruptly over his face. "Oh, fuck," he groans, and lifts James's head up to meet his for a hard, hungry kiss.

The still half-empty bottle of beer topples to the floor, forgotten.


	33. 30 April–6 May 1984

**Monday, 30 April 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you usually have for breakfast? /Mona** Dear Mona, That depends on whether I'm fixing it myself, or James is. When I get it myself, I have cereal. When James makes it, I have eggs and bacon(!) and sausages and things. Sometimes I even get waffles. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know of anyone who makes really sturdy beds? I've been with my present partner for six months now and we've already managed to total four beds (and one sofa)! It's starting to get really expensive, not to mention annoying. /Lively** Dear Lively, Four beds and one sofa? What, no tables? I'm afraid I don't know of any sturdy-bed manufacturers, no. Maybe you ought to, er, try and be a little less athletic? Or possibly reinforce your furniture with a few charms, or something. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just accidentally glued a couple of my fingers together and now I can't seem to get unstuck. What should I do? /Sticky** Dear Sticky, Go visit St Mungo's, so those poor Healers can have something to do that doesn't require much effot. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am engaged to be married to a wonderful man, but unfortunately I do not get along with his children at all. I would rather he didn't see them, as I'd prefer for us to start over on a clean slate with children of our own. Should I ask my fiancé to choose between me and his children, and if so, how should I phrase it? /Amandine** Dear Amadine, "Hi, I'm a selfish, heartless _bitch_ , and I want you to stop seeing _your children_ just so I don't have to be reminded that you had a life before me. Thanks so much!" And my advice to your fiancé is to consider the happiness of his children and drop you like a hot dragon's egg. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you believe in astrology? You're a Sagittarius, right? How well do you think that suits you? They're supposed to be very independent, straightforward, adventurous, idealistic, intelligent, honest and confident, but also temperamental, impatient and impulsive; and they're supposed to get along the best with Aries and Leos. Sound like you or not at all? /Raychaele** Dear Rayshewhatsit, I've never really thought about astrology, to be honest. Given your description of a Sagittarius, I'd say it suits me all right. Definitely the getting along best with Aries. (I looked that up, you see, and James is an Aries.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend has no backbone whatsoever! She's always letting me decide everything and when I ask for her opinion all she can say is "I don't mind". It's getting really annoying! What can I do to get her to speak up for herself? /Lindie** Dear Lindie, Start suggesting that the two of you do some _really_ outlandish things. You know... bridge-jumping, moonlighting as hookers, robbing Gringotts. That sort of thing. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently found a Muggle bicycle out in the street and salvaged it. However, I do not understand how Muggles operate the damn things! I keep falling over like a fool. Have you ever ridden one and do you have any hints on how to stay upright? /Manfred** Dear Manfred, No, sadly, the closest I've come to a bicycle is Mathilda Ermyntrude. But that's sort of similar, isn't it? Maybe you just need to be going really, really fast... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, On average, how much time do you spend with James Potter every week? /Stat** Dear Stat, Most of it. Somewhere around 100 hours, probably. Or would you like me to count minutes? 5,850-ish. Seconds? 352,800. Give or take. Why? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why is it not a good idea to stick your fingers into Muggle sockits, or whatever they're called? (The wall things you plug!) /Curious** Dear Curious, Because the eclectic men in the walls (they're very tiny and they have wands) will get mad at you for invading their territory, and shock you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just recently got together with my very first boyfriend and it's lovely. However, we haven't kissed yet even though I can tell he wants to as much as I do! We're both too shy to just do it. How do you go about initiating a first kiss without looking like a complete idiot? /Olive** Dear Olive, Here's a tip: Don't _worry_ about looking like a complete idiot. If this guy wants to kiss you as much as you say he seems to, then he's not going to _care_ — he'll be too thrilled. Sirius PS: If that's not helpful enough... Try Firewhiskey.  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 2 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever gone skinny dipping? I'm thinking about trying it but I'm afraid the crabs and lobsters will steal my clothing! /Sebastian** Dear Sebastian, I have, actually. And I wouldn't worry about the lobsters or crabs or what have you stealing your clothes — only the giant mutant ones do that. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife and I cannot seem to agree on how much sex is a proper amount. I say two to three times a week sounds about right -- she's more into the idea of two to three times a DAY! Is there something wrong with her or have I got old? /P.J.** Dear Pyjama, I think there's something wrong with YOU! I dunno if it's that you've got old, or what, but I'd probably commit homicide for a partner with that kind of idea about "enough" sex! ...Wait. Oh. Right. Nevermind. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just recently learnt that my daughter is a squib and I am having loads of trouble accepting this. I come from a pureblood family, as does her mother, and she has two older siblings who are both really talented at magic. How do we handle this? We're really worried about her future! /Dad** Dear Father, Just remind he that you love her and are proud of her, no matter what. Magic isn't everything, you know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Does your house have curtains? Did you pick them out? /Lacey** Dear Lacey, Yes, it does, and yes, I did! The neat-freak has no taste, you know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just recently had my hair cut and now I look like a hedgehog! I have a Muggle job so I can't just magic it back as it were or people will get suspicious. Whatever should I do? I want to cry every time I see myself in a mirror! It used to be so nice and pretty and now it's just ruined! /Shorn** Dear Shorn, Shave it all off and pretend you have cancer — then magic it out and pretend it's a wig. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently found this weird Muggle invention that looks like little slimy elongated balloons. They're call con-domes, or something like that. What do you reckon Muggles use them for? /Trickster** Dear Trickster, Um. They, er, put them on their, er, heads. This Muggle girl I knew told me they were to prevent a bloke leaving any "nasty surprises" or causing "an unfortunate event". She was a bit of a barmy one. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I know you were in Gryffindor at school. Do you think this was the right house for you? If you hadn't been in Gryffindor, what house would you have been in? What about James, and your other friends? /Anny** Dear Anny, Unquestionably, I think Gryffindor was the right house for me. I doubt I would have turned out nearly so well if I'd been put in any of the others. James, if he'd not been a Gryffindor, would probably have ended up as a Hufflepuff; he's got that loyal, hardworking thing going on. Remus would probably have been in Ravenclaw, because he's just so blasted _well-read_ and _clever_ (but you didn't hear it from me), and Lily, well, I think she might have been a 'Claw, as well. The woman is bloody _brilliant_ , I'm telling you. As for what House _I'd_ be in if I weren't in Gryffindor... now _there's_ an interesting question. I may not have got the short end of the smart stick, but I don't think I'm booky enough to have worn the blue and bronze. Likewise, while I may be obsessively loyal, I'm not especially hardworking, so I probably wouldn't have been a 'Puff, either. Which, unfortunately means... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What kind of job would you have if you didn't work for the paper? /Enn** Dear N, Paid assassin. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Last week I accidentally fell asleep while my girlfriend and I were making love. It was really quite embarrassing, and she was really really upset with me despite me explaining what a stressful and tiring day I'd had. How do I apologise for this and make it up to her? /Sleepy** Dear Zzzs, Tsk, falling asleep in the middle of sex; how dare you! I am outraged on your girlfriend's behalf, and yet feel rather sorry for you. I suggest you take a VERY long nap and then spend a VERY long time (during which you will NOT fall asleep) making sweet, sweet love to her, while apologising with ENORMOUS feeling. Mhm. And then NEVER do it again. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband is such a SLOB! He never cleans up after himself or does the washing up. His clothes are always in a dirty pile on the floor. Even simple things like replacing the loo roll or putting down the toilet seat seem impossible to him, despite having a wand! How do I get him to behave less than a caveman and more like a grown up person? /Fed up** Dear You-Poor-Woman, First of all, whatever you do, _don't_ nag; that'll just piss him off. Instead, do what I'd do, in your position (because not replacing the loo roll is really pushing it) — hex him. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
3 May 1984  
7.02 pm**_

Sirius is in the front hall, fishing through the pockets of the leather jacket he's about to put on, and muttering to himself about how keychains should have tracking devices installed on them automatically. When there is a 'pop!' from the front porch, and someone knocks politely on the front door, he doesn't seem to hear it.

"Si, will you let Moony in!" James calls from the kitchen.

Grunting, hands still busy, Sirius casts an impatient look at the front door. "It's open, Remus," he announces loudly.

After a moment, the door eases open, and Remus peers cautiously around it. There's a slightly suspicious, wary look on his face.

"For heaven's sake, nothing's going to get you," grumbles Sirius, his eyes back on the jacket. "I'm busy, and you've not done anything hex-worthy lately."

Remus, looking a little sheepish now, slips the rest of the way into the house, softly closing the door behind him. "I didn't think you were going to," he replies defensively.

A tea cup in his hand, James wanders into the hall. "There you are."

"Hullo, James," greets Remus, and he seems somewhat relieved to see that James is also fully clothed. "Sorry I'm late."

James looks rather amused. "Two minutes doesn't count as late by normal people's standards, you know."

"I said I'd be here at seven," Remus says calmly. As he begins taking off his jacket, he seems to take note of Sirius's search, and asks, "What are you _doing_ , Sirius?"

"My keys," is Sirius's curt answer.

"… why don't you just summon them?"

"That is a good question," James agrees, turning to give Sirius a rather bemused look. " _You're_ running late, you know."

"I don't think she's as punctual as Remus. She won't mind that I'm a bit late," replies Sirius, and there is a grumpy look on his face. "Anyway. I… don't remember where I left my wand."

"What time did you say you'd be there?" James asks, walking backwards into the living room and bending down to look between the cushions of the sofa.

"Er, half past six?" Sirius answers, somehow managing not to look the least bit contrite.

Remus is glancing between them curiously. "Where's he going?" he asks, directing the question at James.

Shaking his head whilst wearing a rather sappy smile, James finally uncovers Sirius's wand underneath a t-shirt wedged between the seat and the back of the sofa and hands it to him. "His local groupie's."

"She's not a groupie," protests Sirius, waving the wand to summon his keys, which come jangling out of a boot on the floor next to the door. "She's my friend."

"Details."

"She thinks you're fit," Sirius announces, as if this is relevant, while pushing his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Clever girl," James says, more to Remus than to Sirius. "You have fun… not too much fun."

Remus is still glancing between them, his eyebrows raised. "Is this girl a fan of yours, or Sirius's?" he asks.

"Me. Both of us," replies Sirius, adjusting his jacket so that it lays across his shoulders properly, and running a quick hand through his hair. He flashes James a smile. "And she's cleaning; how much fun could I possibly have?"

Chuckling, James shakes his head. "Just go."

"Right. Give us a kiss?" he requests, moving over to James in a single, slightly awkward-looking step.

With a swift, somewhat apologetic glance at Remus, James brushes his lips across Sirius's. "See you later."

Sirius grins at him. "Bye, love," he whispers. Turning, he gives Remus a mock salute and a cheerful "Later!" on his way out the front door. He still seems to be walking awkwardly, and favouring his right leg.

Remus, watching Sirius leave while taking off his hat, turns back to James with a slight frown on his face. "Is he all right?"

"Hm?"

"His leg," clarifies Remus. "Did he hurt it?"

"Oh," James says, his ears turning rather red very suddenly. "No, no, he's fine."

"But it looked like he was limping—"

"He'll be fine, Remus."

Remus does not look completely appeased. "All right, then," he says, heading toward the kitchen. "What happened to him, though?"

"Nothing," James says, the blush spreading to his cheeks.

With his back to James, Remus doesn't notice the blush. "You're a horrible liar, James."

"And _you_ don't want me to say it," James retorts.

Stopping next to the table, Remus frowns more deeply. "But if he's hurt himself—"

James turns around, giving him a rather exasperated look. "If anyone hurt him, it was me, all right? And it's not his _leg_ , and he'll be fine."

"But—" Abruptly, Remus's face goes even redder than James's had, and whatever he was about to say dies on his lips. "Oh," he squeaks, instead.

"I told you you didn't want to hear it," James mutters.

Remus stares at him for a moment. "You— He— You've—" he stammers, blinking rapidly, and turning redder. "You're actually—"

"Actually what?"

"Actually… actually _shagging_?" sputters Remus, looking like he isn't sure if he wants to know but can't help himself asking the question.

"No, Remus," James says, rolling his eyes, "we just snuggle and play Exploding Snap. What d'you _think_?"

Remus stares at him.

James stares right back.

"Oh," Remus squeaks again, and then he sits down rather heavily on the nearest chair. "Er."

"… that honestly surprises you?"

The red that had been starting to disappear from Remus's face returns in a rush. He quickly looks away. "I hadn't thought about it," he manages.

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't," James mutters, his cheeks nearly as pink as Remus's.

"No," agrees Remus uncomfortably. "Your relationship isn't exactly, er…"

James raises an eyebrow at him.

"I mean," Remus hurriedly mutters, "it's just… not, er, something that I really… That… —Well, how would you have liked it if I'd told you _I_ was shagging Sirius?"

"I'd probably have punched you in the face to teach you to stay away from my property!"

Remus snaps his gaze back around to James, eyes wide and unblinking, and gapes at him.

James just looks at him. "What?"

"Your _property_?!"

".... don't tell him I called him that."

"Right." Remus is still gaping. "But, er, that wasn't exactly… what I meant."

"Well, good, 'cause I was about to ask what you'd do if I'd go and shag Evans," James replies, crossing his arms over his chest. "What did you mean, then?"

Remus's face twists into a rather horrified expression. "You… you wouldn't—"

"Of course I wouldn't, Remus, don't be a twat."

Remus blushes again. Then he clears his throat. Twice.

"'Sides, do you really think she'd _let me_?" James adds, grinning slightly. "Now, Si's another issue —"

"I _meant_!" Remus exclaims desperately, the horrified expression on his face intensifying, "I _meant_ — The two of you in a relationship is simply something I never would have considered possible."

"Why the hell not?"

"Well, you're… you're _straight_ , James," Remus points out, going back to staring at anything other than his friend.

James looks at him for a several moments. "No, I'm not."

Again, Remus's attention returns to James's face, though this time he's frowning instead of gaping. "But… you _were_ …"

"Was I?"

"You— You—" Remus stammers, apparently at a loss for words. "Weren't you?"

"I don't know," James says with a shrug, sitting down on the tabletop. "I never really gave it much thought."

"But… you certainly went out enough…"

"And look at how well that all went!"

"… actually, I always thought that was Sirius's fault."

James chuckles. "What, him being so gorgeous that they forgot I was even in the room?"

"No," replies Remus, and he looks a little put out. "Only that he always seemed to be, well, driving them off."

"You think so?" James asks, frowning slightly. "Never thought of it that way."

"Well, it was really Lily's theory," admits Remus, with a little shrug.

"Ah," says James with another chuckle. "Well, regardless, that doesn't really have anything to do with my potential straightness, does it?"

"I suppose." Remus is still frowning, however.

"What?"

"You've never, er, done anything that was really…" Remus trails off, blushing. "That is, you always _seemed_ straight, anyway."

"You should have been here forty-five minutes ago and that theory would have gone right out the window, mate," James says, with a bit of a lopsided grin.

"James!" Remus looks scandalised. Again.

"Yes, Remus?"

"That… that isn't amusing."

James does not look very contrite.

Remus looks like he's struggling with something.

"Just spit it out, Moony."

"It's just… _why_?"

This was obviously not what James expected. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why…" Pausing, Remus grimaces awkwardly. "Why are— did the two of you… start?"

"I suppose saying 'because we were drunk and your girlfriend suggested it' isn't going to cut it?" Looking pained, Remus shakes his head. James fixes a rather sober look on him. "I love him. He makes me happy."

"You _love_ him?" Remus repeats slowly, after a moment of silence

"Of course I do, what the hell did you think?!"

Blushing, but looking only slightly abashed, Remus shrugs. "I don't know."

"Well, I do," James says again, pausing for a moment. "Plus he puts out _all the time_."

Remus's face turns faintly purple.

"You love him because he puts out?" he questions, his voice a bit high.

Rolling his eyes, James says, "Are you being daft on purpose, Moony? What am I, fourteen?"

"I'm just confused!" protests Remus.

James shakes his head, the look on his face a weird mixture between amusement and irritation. "What exactly is so confusing about it?"

"You're in love with _Sirius_."

"Indeed."

Remus shakes his head slowly. "What do you even see in him?" he asks.

"… Remus, he's been my best mate since I was eleven," James says, very slowly. "I thought it'd be obvious that I enjoy his company."

"Well, yeah, he's my mate too," mutters Remus. "But he's so… He's _Sirius_ , James; he's always laughing at everything, and most of the time I don't even think he likes the rest of the world. There's a difference between enjoying someone's company and being in love with them!"

"He likes _me_ well enough."

Remus rolls his eyes. "Of course he does."

"So what's the question then, exactly?" James asks, in a tone that very clearly states that Remus isn't really making sense.

"I guess…" Remus stops to take a deep breath, and when he starts speaking again, he is visibly choosing his words with care. "I guess what I'm getting at is that, while I'm not very surprised that Sirius would want to be with you — after all, it's rather obvious that he's worshipped you since the first time you told him you were glad he was in Gryffindor — I _am_ surprised because I just never expected that _you_ would want to be with him. Like _that_." He pauses briefly. "Even though he is the most ridiculously handsome person either of us are ever likely to meet."

"Oh. Well." James shrugs. "It's not like it's really something you _pick_ , is it?" Without waiting for a reply, he then adds, rather smugly, "Worshipped?"

"You were practically his religion," scoffs Remus, in much the same exasperated, disgusted tone as he'd used to call Sirius handsome.

"I think you have me confused with chocolate tart."

Almost unwillingly, Remus laughs. "Okay, _one_ of his religions, then."

"That's better," James says, laughing as well. Then, turning rather more serious, he adds, "It just happened. And it feels right. Isn't that enough?"

Remus seems to consider this. "It ought to be," he admits, reluctantly. "I'm just… still absorbing it, I guess."

"Yeah, well, take your time," James says, standing up and taking a sip of his now lukewarm tea. "I still haven't processed the fact that Evans actually wants _you_ in her bed every night."

Remus blushes again. "Except when she's mad at me, of course," he adds primly.

"Of course," James agrees. "You want some tea?"

"No, thank—" Remus starts to shake his head, then stops, turning the motion into a nod. "Yes, please."

With a nod, James jumps off the table, heading for the teapot. Watching James from his spot at the table, Remus begins to look rather thoughtful. After a moment, he clears his throat.

"I had a feeling you weren't done."

Remus ignores this. "Isn't it weird?" he asks, his expression uncertain, like maybe he isn't entirely sure he wants to be asking.

James blinks, pointing his wand and muttering a quick heating spell at the teacup before handing it to Remus. "Is what weird?"

"Well, like you said, you've been best friends since you were eleven," Remus points out, his voice staying mostly reasonable. "Isn't it ever… odd… being more than that?"

"It's not really that different, to be honest," James says, reclaiming his spot on the table. "Aside from the obvious."

"The obvious…?— Oh."

"I mean," James says, ignoring Remus's obvious discomfort, "he was always… there's never been anyone I'd rather spend time with, you know?"

"Yes," replies Remus dryly, "that has always been rather obvious."

"Is it like that for you? With Evans?"

"Well… yes, kind of, I suppose. But that's partly because I… I love just _looking_ at her. She's so gorgeous, I can't help it." As he stops speaking, the uncertain look comes back to Remus's face, and he glances warily at James, obviously wondering if he's about to say something similar.

James just gives him a somewhat wry look and a raised eyebrow.

Remus sighs. "Right, I guess that should be obvious, too."

"That's kind of new, though," James admits. "In a way."

"Only in a way?" questions Remus, blinking.

"Well." James pauses, biting his lip for a moment as he seems to ponder how to get his point across. "I never really took the time to look… before, you know?"

Remus nods. His face is a little pink again.

James fiddles with his teaspoon. "Didn't really seem proper."

"Yeah, because the two of you have spent a lot of time worrying about what's _proper_ ," Remus mutters, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah," James agrees, "but I actually care what _he_ thinks of what I do."

About to take a sip up of his tea, Remus pauses with the cup almost to his lips, and throws an odd look at James.

"That surprises you?"

"Well, no, but he probably thinks you fart roses and belch sunshine, so really—"

James chokes on his tea. "Don't be absurd."

"I don't mean _literally_ , of course," Remus mutters defensively.

"Well, still."

"Still," echoes Remus, still a little defensively. Clearing his throat, he steers the conversation away from his previous statement by saying, "So, then, he doesn't mind when you… 'take the time to look'?"

James stares at him in silence for about half a moment, before breaking into laughter. Very, very loud laughter.

Remus's face flames red for the umpteenth time, and be mumbles something to himself that sounds quite a bit like "… _knew_ I shouldn't have asked…"

Still laughing, James shakes his head. "No. No, he doesn't mind."

"That's… good," says Remus, still doing his impression of a tomato.

"At all."

Remus just grunts this time. Then— "I don't see why you had to _laugh_ at me. It was a perfectly legitimate question."

"I don't think you want me to tell you why that's funny," James says, lips still twitching. "It's in that area you don't want to hear about."

"Oh." Remus stares at his cup for a moment before saying, as if he can't quite help himself, "There seems to be an awful _lot_ in that area."

"I told you," grins James, "he puts out all the time."

"I… I thought that was an exaggeration."

Looking rather delighted, James shakes his head.

Remus's face has gone even redder than before, and he seems to be trying to hide it behind his teacup. " _All_ the time?" he blurts after a moment, and promptly looks utterly horrified at himself.

"Well, not _all the time_ ," James clarifies, setting his now empty cup down on the table next to him, still looking very pleased with himself. "We do have to work. And eat. And sleep."

"Then, you mean—"

"… are you sure you want me to answer this question, mate?"

Remus just sits there, opening and closing his mouth. Raising his eyebrows at him once more, James says, "This morning. After supper. And probably tonight, too, unless he's too tired after he gets back from –"

"Where _did_ he go, really?" Remus interrupts, hastily. And _loudly_.

"Just down the village."

"Really, and what's he doing down the village?" presses Remus, and he looks a little desperate.

"Visiting this girl he knows," James explains rather vaguely. "Ivy something or other."

For some reason, this sets Remus to blinking bemusedly.

"Met at the grocery store. Seems a bit barmy."

"… Sirius is visiting a barmy girl he met at a _grocery store_?" repeats Remus, dubiously.

"Mm. But it's all right, he's helped her clean her house before," James says, sounding like he's just as amused by this as Remus is.

"Clean her—" Remus stops, shaking his head. "Sirius; only Sirius…"

"Indeed."

"…you realise that you are possibly the only person on the planet who could put up with that, right?"

"Well." James looks at his feet, which are dangling a foot above the floor. "He's possibly the only person on the planet who could put up with me in general, so it all works out in our favour."

"I suppose, if you look at it like that…"

James chuckles slightly, then looks up at Remus again. "I know this must be a little weird for you."

"Oh, really?" replies Remus, not troubling to keep the edge of sarcasm from his voice.

Ignoring his tone, James nods. "And I just want you to know that we're thankful you're trying to be all right with it."

The look that suddenly appears on Remus's face is mostly surprised, but a little angry, too. "Well, of course I am!" he exclaims, and there's a bit of heat in his voice. "What else would I be doing?"

"I don't know, freaking out about it?"

Very deliberately setting down his teacup, Remus straightens in his chair and fixes the other man with a serious look. "James Potter, on the scale of difficult things to handle, this falls somewhere far short of a couple of first years finding out that one of their friends is a werewolf."

James opens his mouth. And closes it again. And opens it. "Oh," is all he eventually manages.

"If the two of you could handle that," declares Remus in a curiously steely voice, "then I can handle the two of you screwing each other six ways to Sunday." Then his resolve seems to wither a bit, and his face flames, and he quickly adds, "Only maybe I don't want to _hear_ about it, okay?"

Grinning, James raises his empty tea cup in a salute. "Cheers, mate."

Remus mutters something, and picks his cup back up.

"Hm?"

"I said, I think that's about all I can take of that," says Remus, more distinctly.

"Well, then," says James, putting the cup back down with a 'clunk'. "Should we discuss the things you came here to discuss, then? Guaranteed sex-free. …I should hope."

"Hogwarts-level transfiguration generally is, yes," agrees Remus, and he looks rather relieved.

"Generally, yes. So these pupils of yours, they're how old, exactly?"

"Mostly about twelve and thirteen. There are a couple of older ones, though, including a particular sixteen-year-old who lives in abject fear of failing his N.E.W.T. next year…"

"Reminds me of someone I know," James says with an amused, pointed look at Remus. 

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Remus retorts primly. "Now, are you going to help me, or not?"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. Let's get started, then."

"Right you are, Moony," says James, jumping off the table once more. "More tea?"

* * *

**Friday, 4 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really like this boy in my year but he says he'll only be my boyfriend if I give him a blowjob. Do you think I should? (He's really cute and he plays Quidditch!) /Sasha, 14** Dear Sasha, No, you shouldn't. If he really liked you, he wouldn't set conditions, especially not like that. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm 26 and living at home, and not because I have to, but because I like it! Do you think this is weird, and should I move out? /Homebody** Dear Homebody, It's only weird if you think it's weird. The same goes for moving out — well, and if your parents think you ought to. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it ever okay to punch your girlfriend? I know it's not very nice, but what if she's cheated on you? /L.S.** Dear L.S., No, it's not okay to punch her. Hexing is rather more efficient... and you won't bruise your knuckles. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been told I'm rather high-strung and hard to get to know, and I'm trying to change this. You seem like a very easy-going person -- how does one go about acting like that? /Grumpy** Dear Grumpy, One decides that it takes too much energy to hate the whole world. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am sick with mono and I am so bored of life, the universe and everything! What should I do to keep myself from dying of boredom? That's actually worse than the mono! /Sick and bored** Dear Bored sick, Ouch. Sounds dreadful! I suggest you practice hard and become an exploding snap champion. Or begin a study of obscure spells. Harass your friends by writing to them seven times a day. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know if there is any way you can get to go to Hogwarts early? I really really really wanna go in September this year because I have no friends here and my parents fight a lot. /Allie, 9** Dear Allie, Oh, you poor darling. I'm sorry — really, I am — but unfortunately I don't think Hogwarts ever does that. Maybe you ought to try convincing your parents to get counselling? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am such a wimp! This is really bothering me. Do you have any suggestions on how to be more manly? /Weakling** Dear Wuss, For starters, stop admitting to being a wimp. Start lifting weights and going running every few days, just to make sure you don't look like a limp noodle. Also, belch and fart and stuff a lot. And sit around on your couch eating crisps and drinking beer and grumbling. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know of any good curse words to use around young children? My mother in law caught my two year old dropping the F bomb last week and well, something needs to change around here. /Potty mum** Dear Potty, I don't approve of cursing in front of children, so I applaud your decision to change! I suggest you start using words that aren't actually profane — like "fudge" and "sausages" and "smurf" — or that substitute for profanity. "Darn" and "crap" are better than f-words and d-words and other unpleasant things. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it morally wrong to snog someone for money? /Kiss and cash** Dear Kisser, Yes. A bit. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm worried my teenage son might be gay. Most of his friends are girls, he's not into sports, and he wears pink. Furthermore he enjoys classical Muggle music and cries all the time. What should I do? I have five daughters already (but no more sons) — I don't need another one! /Worried father** Dear Father, You should get over it, that's what you should do. Just because he is all those things you mentioned, doesn't mean he's not your _son_. Honestly. What tripe. Sirius  
---


	34. 7–13 May 1984

**Monday, 7 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Happy Quidditch finals week! Are you looking forward to it? Do you have any predictions about the outcome? /Kian** Dear Kian Predictions? I have, but I'm trying to keep them under wraps as I'm afraid of how certain people I know will take them. I'm just really hoping that Portree comes out ahead of Kenmare... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend is so nosy! She's always asking me private details about my love life and I just don't feel comfortable sharing them with her, but when I tell her this she calls me frigid! What can I do to make her back off? /Private** Dear Private, Freeze her...? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How can you tell if your partner is cheating on you? /Suspicious** Dear Suspicious, You slip Veritaserum in their morning coffee and you ask them. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think I accidentally swallowed a quill. Will it come out on its own or should I do something about it, and if so, what? /Hungry** Dear Hungry, Like I said last week to some poor sod who glued his fingers together, go visit St Mungo's. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've just found out that I have two half-siblings on my father's side that I never knew about before. They've showed interest in meeting up with me, and I'm tempted. I don't have any other siblings and I've always wanted some, but at the same time I know it would break my mother's heart -- they were born during my parents' marriage, and my mother only found out about their existence after my father passed away five years ago and I don't want to hurt my her further! What should I do? /Sister** Dear Sister, I don't think it's fair to you to compromise your happiness in order to limit your mother's unhappiness — you've done nothing wrong to find yourself in this situation, and as far as I'm concerned you've a right to become acquainted with your half-siblings. The fact that she's most likely done nothing wrong, either, is unfortunate but rather beside the point, when one considers that your father was clearly something of a shmuck — nothing you do or do not do, or that she does or does not do, is going to change that. Also, I feel very sorry for the both of you, and your half siblings, and think it's something of a pity that your father's already dead so none of you can hex him for this. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why is it that I can't seem to get a date when my best friend has at least one a week, and I'm a lot prettier than she is? /Angelica** Dear Angelica, Because, my dear girl, your standards are obviously much higher than hers. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I can't decide where to go on holiday this summer. I'm open for anything that's not smelly or too dirty; what do you suggest? /Traveller** Dear Traveller, Ooh! Why don't you go down to Australia?! Then you can tell me what it's like! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why does my mum make me drink milk when I don't like it? /Aled, aged 8** Dear Aled, Because it's good for you, of course. Then again, so are brussel sprouts... or so I've been led to believe. Blech. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What time do you usually go to bed at night? /Aurora** Sunny, I'm usually in bed by midnight and asleep by two. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I can't decide if I want to spend my 17th birthday with my friends, my family, or my girlfriend. They all have their obvious perks -- friends will be the most fun, family will bring me the largest amount of gifts, and girlfriend... well, that's obvious. What would you do in my situation? /Still 16** Dear Grasshopper, I'd have a party, invite all of them, and at some point, temporarily abscond somewhere with your girlfriend. All the benefits rolled up into one! Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, May 9 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend and I have been together nearly five years now and we're very happy. However, he knows that I want to get married and yet he won't ask me! I'm starting to feel as though this is hopeless and that he will never put that ring on my finger! Should I break up with him and try to find a man who's less scared of commitment? /Ringless** Dear Ringless, Nah, don't break up with him! If you love him enough to want to marry him, then you love him enough to let him get his act together. Though maybe you ough to consider helping him along... with some not-so-gentle prodding from his best mates, of course. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever considered growing a beard? Why/why not? /Todd** Dear Todd, I've considered, sure, but I'd never do it. Beardiness would not be a good look for me. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I don't have much (well, any) experience with boys, but my best friend just does. She just told me that the average size (you know what I mean) is between 10 and 11 inches and I think this sounds sort of... scary, really! Is she full of it or is this actually true? /Virginia** Dear Virginia, Er. She's either full of it, or she's _been_ abnormally... full of it. Which ever it is, there's no way that's average. No reason to be worried, pet. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am so worried I am going to fail my OWL's that I can't sleep at night and they're still weeks away! All my friends keep telling me I'll do great but I just know I'll fail and be kicked out of school! Do you have any good tips for cramming? I really don't want to get all T's! /Panicking** Dear Panicking, Whoa, whoa, chill out, kid! If you don't calm down, you're gonna spaz out during your exams and then you really WILL fail and be kicked out of school. Seriously, getting kicked out of school is not that common, really; the worst that'll happen is that you'll get a few bad grades and you might not be able to take exactly the classes you wanted to, but hey, not the end of the world, right? Also, cramming isn't really the best idea out there. Just... do a little (emphasis on little) reading every night (EVERY night) before you go to bed, and then read the same thing again in the morning during breakfast. Chances are you'll absorb enough this way to — maybe not completely ace and get O's — but at least get A's. Hey... it's what I did! Well. Mostly. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why don't you fall asleep until 2 am? Do you do a lot of reading in bed? Aren't you tired in the mornings? /Sleepy** Dear Sleepy, Reading? Um. Occasionally, I suppose. Mostly, I don't read, I— actually, y'know, that's not really something I should be talking about. But no, I'm not tired in the morning. Not much, anyway; I take naps on weekends and sometimes in the evenings. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am having a baby this summer and I just found out it's a boy. I was really hoping for a daughter and now I can't help but feeling really disappointed, despite knowing how wrong this is and that I should love my child regardless of what sex he or she is. What can I do to get over this and start looking forward to meeting my son? /Worst Mother of the Year** Dear Bad Mummy, Think of all the fun things you'll get to do with your son once he's born! You'll get to dress him up in little suits and teach him to be a gentleman and the proper way to treat girls in general get to watch him be adorable. Also? No exhausting worries about doing your child's hair. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I keep having these recurring dreams about horrible things happening to my family! Do you think I have the gift of the Seer, or should I simply cut back a little on my bedtime bottle of red? /Worried** Dear Worried, Cut back on the red wine, first of all. If the dreams doing go away then, possibly you're just neurotic. Don't assume you're a Seer, though, until they start coming true. And if the do... could you maybe start having those dreams about MY family instead? Sirius PS: Um. I'm only kidding about that last part. PPS: ... or AM I... 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How many middle names are too many? How many have you got? /Alistair** Dear Alistair, I've only got the one. As for too many... if it takes you more than twenty seconds to say someone's full name, that's too many. Or else the number of names they do have are all too long. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's fair to have a "type" when it comes to significant others, and refuse to date anyone who doesn't fit that type? /Standards** Dear Standards, Well, that depends on what you mean by "type" and "refuse". If you're going around rejecting perfectly nice, attractive, charming, intelligent, stable people because their name isn't "Antonio"... then yes, yes, that's unfair. On the other hand, if your "type" is as simple as someone with a sense of humour... no, I don't think that's unfair; it's just who you are. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's a good idea to have a joint bank account with your spouse? My wife is a shopoholic who often spends her entire salary on shoes, so I'm a bit concerned. /Scrooge** Dear Scrooge, Normally, I thoroughly support the idea of joint bank accounts — "what's mine is yours" and "share and share alike" and all that — but that's only if both of you are capable of maintaining a certain level of monetary responsibility. I mean, it's stupid to give your partner access to to the portion of your joint income that _you_ have earned, if they're going to spend it foolishly. Alcoholics, shopoholics, potion addicts, and other such people of compromised judgement fall into this category. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 11 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What, in your opinion, are the best and the worst things about being single? /Michelle** Dear Michelle, Well, the best thing about being single is obviously the freedom; you can do whatever you want, flirt with whoever you want, stay out as late as you want with whoever you want... The worst part, though, is being alone to do all that, and not have anyone who you know will yell at you if they find out; you don't get to be someone's other half, you are just... you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do Muggles use instead of quills? /Confused** Dear Confused, These things called "fountain pens" that squirt ink all over everything. Dreadful! Also they have pencils, but there isn't ink in those. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really really really fancy this girl but she won't even look at me! Is there any way I could get her to fall in love with me, or at least agree to a date with me, that wouldn't land me in Azkaban if word got out? /Hopeless** Dear Hopeless, Have you tried just _asking_ her, or was the "won't even look at me" meant literally? 'Cause if so, Azkaban is probably your best bet, after all. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just got a baby sister and I don't like her very much. Is there anyone you can send loud smelly babies to so you don't have to take care of them no more? /Aisling, 8** Dear Aisling, Oh, you poor thing. How about back to your parents? Or you grandparents? Don't worry, though, babies get better — they grow up. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the point of keeping pet fish? Do they actually ever do anything interesting? /Bubbles** Dear Bubbles, Er, actually, I have no idea what the point is. _I've_ never noticed them be particularly interesting... Well, unless you've also got a cat, or a toddler. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I fail at making conversation! I am so bad at small talk that any conversation I'm in just dies stone dead after five minutes. How can I learn to be more captivating? /Bore** Dear Bore, Write a list of acceptable "light" conversation topics and memorise it. Then write down at least three generic things to say about each of those topics, and memorise those, too. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My older brother is such a rude, inconsiderate jerk! I feel really embarrassed to share his last name and always feel as though I should apologise to everyone I meet about his behaviour. How should I handle this? /Little brother** Dear Little, Ouch. Well, I don't recommend apologising to everyone you meet, that's for sure! Probably the simplest way of dealing with it would be to just ignore him, and all of his inconsiderate jerkiness... Unless you think talking to him might get him to see what a prat he is? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you prefer tall or short women? /Stumpy** Dear Stumpy, That depends on what I want them for! The short ones make adorable friends and mums and things — you can pick them up and spin them around, for example — but when it comes to relationships, tall is nice. At least, it is for me, since I'm also tall. Things... line up better that way. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could pick just one moment of your time at Hogwarts as the highlight of your school years, what would it be and why? /Yearbook** Dear Yearbook, Oh, Merlin, just _one_? I... don't think I can do that. There are too many brilliant ones to choose from, like the first moment the rest of the school realised that James was Head Boy, or the really wicked Hogsmeade weekend near the end of our seventh year... I'd probably have to go ask James for his opinion, if you actually want me to _pick_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Recently all my friends have been interested in doing at the weekends is drinking and smoking pot. I have no interest in doing any of these things and now they're always telling me what a stick-in-the-mud I am and how they don't want to be my friends any longer. What should I do? They're the only friends I have and I really don't want to lose them! /Desperate** Dear Desperate, If you don't want to lose them, but you want them to stop calling you that, you seem to only have two options. You can either give in and join them, or you can smack them all about the head with the common sense stick and make them get their acts together. Really, though, it might be easier to find a few other friends to hang out with, just until those start acting more reasonable. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
11 May 1984  
4.06 pm** _

 

"So," Lily says, leaning back lazily in James's father's old and rather horrid armchair, "remind me again why you're not covering this one, Sirius?"

Sirius, sitting on one end of the white sofa, flicks her a brief look between popping crisps into his mouth. "Told them I couldn't. Mental health emergency."

"Meaning what, exactly?" asks Lily, glancing over at James, who is seated next to Sirius on the sofa, leaning over the end table where the Wireless is with a very focused look on his face.

Sirius also glances at James, before answering. "Relax. Eat," he says in the other man's direction, holding out his bag of crisps. "You've got another ten minutes 'til it starts."

"Yes, well," James mutters, taking the bag without moving his gaze from the Wireless. "You know that reception gets a bit shoddy out here sometimes."

"You'll survive," Sirius tells him, though he looks a bit dubious. Then he turns back to Lily, and jerks his head sideways at James. "And THAT is what I meant by mental health emergency."

Remus, in the other armchair, yawns.

Looking half amused, half confused, Lily asks James, "So why aren't you at the game? Don't tell me you couldn't get tickets."

"Don't want a repeat of last year," is James's rather curt answer.

"What happened last year?" asks Remus, frowning slightly, and still looking rather bored. "I can't remember."

James ignores him. Sirius looks amused and focuses on his fingernails in an effort not to say anything.

"… Sirius?" prods Remus.

Sirius smirks. "If you don't remember, you're better off."

"His entire team saw him cry," Lily stage-whispers at her boyfriend. "Back when he was still on the reserves."

"Not one or two tears kind of crying," puts in Sirius, as if he can't help it. "Big, red-faced bucketfuls."

Remus winces sympathetically.

"Can it."

Sirius seems rather unimpressed by James's tone. "Fine," he replies, cheerfully. "Pass the crisps back, will you?"

Finally turning away from the Wireless, James manages a look that's at least halfway apologetic. "I'm sorry, Si, I'm just a bit on edge —"

"Forget it," says Sirius, waving a dismissive hand — and then holding it out expectantly. "Just fork over the food."

James hands him the crisps, making sure his hand brushes against the other man's as he does so.

Sirius beams at him. Remus, with raised eyebrows, asks, "… are you sure it's safe for us to be here while he listens to this, Sirius?"

"Don't worry, baby, I won't let him hurt you," Lily says, grinning at him. Remus rolls his eyes.

James appears to be ignoring all of them.

"He doesn't _usually_ get violent," Sirius adds, while glancing at his watch. "Though, considering the match is probably starting right about n—"

"SHH!"

As an announcer's tinny voice begins blaring the beginning of the game from the Wireless, Remus blinks rather owlishly at James. Lily catches Sirius's gaze, looking as though she's trying not to laugh.

Sirius throws a smirk at her, and winks. "James—" he starts to say.

"Welcome to the final game of the 1983 Quidditch season," the announcer, well, announces, "where the current leaders, the Holyhead Harpies, are getting ready to tackle the Kenmare Kestrels."

"Hmm?" James says, still staring at the Wireless as though it were a TV.

"… never mind." Shaking his head slightly, Sirius leans away from James, toward the other two, and whispers, "Remember, for once, we are rooting for Kenmare."

James makes a face at this.

Remus glances at James. "Why?" he whispers back at Sirius.

"With the Harpies currently leading over the Pride of Portree by 290 points, the Kestrels need to win by at least 300 points to take their victory away," the announcer says, answering Remus's question.

"Oh," says Remus.

"However, since the Prides are 440 points ahead of the Kestrels, they need to score at least 450 points to earn the win for themselves, a feat which looks unlikely as the team has failed to score more than 360 points in a single game all season," the announcer continues, as the noise from the on-site audience increases in the background. "So what we're likely to see here today is either a Harpies victory, cementing their status as the champions of this year's tournament, or a Kestrels victory resulting in the first league win for the Pride of Portree in over fifteen years."

" _That_ is what we want to happen," adds Sirius, for Remus's benefit.

"I bet you they will lose on purpose," James mumbles, as the players for Kenmare are called out. He winces at the mention of Beater Adolphus Astolf.

Sirius shakes his head. "Too much, er, _pride_ for that, James."

"Hah!"

Sirius reaches over to poke James's side, ignoring Remus's snicker. "Hush and listen to the game."

Running both hands through his hair, James finally leans back as the game begins.

Sirius eyes him. "Kestrels have the Quaffle already," he points out. "That's a good start."

James looks like he can't quite decide if he wants to cheer or scowl, as the Kestrels score the first goal of the game.

"We _want_ them to win," Sirius reminds, seeing James's expression.

On Sirius's other side, Remus stares at the Wireless and tries to seem interested in the Kenmare Chasers intercepting the Quaffle and heading in for another goal.

"I know, I know," James says, in a half-groan. "It just feels wrong."

Shaking her head, Lily stands up. "Anyone want anything from the kitchen?"

"A beer would be nice," Sirius replies, just as Kenmare scores there second goal; he gives James another look. "20-nothing inside the first three and a half minutes. _Very_ promising."

James nods, not saying anything.

"Hurray?" says Remus, weakly, looking longingly after Lily.

Sirius makes a hmm-ing noise somewhere in his throat. "'m a bit ashamed of the Harpies Chasers, though," he murmurs, after a moment or two. "Sounds like they're being rather sloppy, even for them."

"They're probably afraid of being mauled."

"Well, Kenmare _has_ rather got, er," Sirius pauses, grimacing, "… a bit of a bloody record this year.— They didn't seriously just score again, did they?"

"That was Holyhead," James says, looking rather pale all of a sudden. "Bloody hell, I can't take this. Get Evans to get me a beer, would you?"

"I'll do it!" offers Remus quickly, rising as he speaks, and vanishing into the kitchen the next moment.

"Twenty-twenty," James says as Holyhead scores once more as Remus leaves, sounding rather pained.

"At least Kenmare has it again," Sirius points out, reaching out to pat James's shoulder comfortingly.

James turns to face him, looking like he might cry. "This is never going to work out in my favour."

Sirius's lips twitch. "Sure it could, James."

"Kenmare just isn't good enough!"

"They've got a shot," insists Sirius, his voice dropping soothingly. "If nothing else, that stupid Beater of theirs is likely to maim half the team before the match is over."

A surprised exclamation erupts from the Wireless.

".... I think he just did," James says, sitting up stick straight. "What just happened?"

Sirius listens for a moment, frowning. "… Something happened to the Holyhead Keeper, it sounds like."

"Did Astolf kill her?" James asks, glancing up towards the kitchen door. "OY! What are you doing in there?"

There's a sudden hush from the kitchen, where a low murmur of voices had been running counterpoint to the Wireless broadcast, and then a head pops round the corner. "Talking?"

"James needs his beer, Remus," replies Sirius, trying to keep his frown in place. "Astolf's just murdered one of the Keepers."

"Yes," James nods, his eyes on the Wireless once more. "And get mum out here, would you?"

"I think she's cleaning out your fridge," mumbles Remus, his head disappearing. "A round of beers coming up, though."

Sirius turns back to James. "So — is she dead?"

"I don't kn —" James begins, just as the announcer explains that the Harpies' Keeper has just managed to fly into one of her own goalpoasts while appareantly attempting to adjust her left boot, and that as a result of this, Kenmare has just scored an additional three goals within a minute of each other.

"Oh, so not Astolf's fault, then," remarks Sirius. He looks a little disappointed.

"Astolf probably tampered with it," James mutters. Then gives a tiny little noise as Kenmare scores yet again, bringing the score up to 60-20.

Sirius raises an eyebrow at the noise. "Four goals up, now."

"Yes, well, they need to be fifteen up before attempting to go for the Snitch —"

"What's that about the Snitch?" asks Remus, coming back into the room carrying three beers, an open bottle in one hand and two unopened ones in the other.

"Kenmare can't catch it unless they're fifteen goals up," Sirius explains, holding out his hand for the beer bottles. "Or else Holyhead takes the championship, anyway."

"Shh!" James says again, sounding rather annoyed this time.

Sirius ignores this, opening one of the beers and passing to James. "Of course, to do that, they need to not only keep scoring like they have been, but also not let Holyhead—"

"Si, be quiet!"

"Drink your beer," Sirius responds evenly, unfazed, opening his own beer.

Remus is staring bemusedly at James.

James does as he's told, gulping down rather a lot of beer in rather a short space of time, for which Sirius gives him an exasperated look.

When the Wireless announces Kenmare's seventh goal, James actually leaps off of the sofa. "Oh come on, for once in your useless existence —"

His expression not changing at all, Sirius reaches out, wraps a hand around James's arm, and tugs him back down to the couch.

"What does that make the score now?" enquires Remus, eyeing James a bit warily.

"Seventy twenty Kenmare," James blurts out in one breath, as he plops back down on the sofa, right next to Sirius.

"This is good, right?" Remus gestures with his beer hand toward the Wireless. "Only — what? — ten more goals?"

"Yes, but —"

Sirius does not seem to like the continued agitation in James's voice. "James, calm _down_ ," he admonishes, with a peculiarly stern look. "I _will_ sit on you if I have to."

James doesn't even appear to have heard him. Remus, however, has gone slightly pink-faced. He clears his throat.

"I might faint," James mumbles, rather pathetically.

"Don't do that," Sirius says, over a burst of noise from the Wireless.

"Not on purp— where is mum?"

"I told you, cleaning out your fridge," answers Remus, still pink-faced and still watching the pair on the couch warily. "Apparently you've got some really manky — what just _happened_?"

"MUM!" James calls, ignoring Remus's question. "MUMMY, I NEED YOU!"

Giving up on James, Sirius turns to Remus and says, "I dunno, but I think Kenmare scored again."

Sirius hasn't finished speaking when Imogen hurries into the room, wearing a very flowery apron that is far too big for her, clutching her wand, and looking concerned. "What?" she demands, as a curious Lily appears in the doorway behind her. "What is it?"

"I might pass out," James says, weakly.

Imogen looks like she can't decide whether to laugh, be annoyed, or stay concerned. "Pass out?" she repeats, a little uncertainly.

"It's going — really well — but I know it won't —"

"He's just being melodramatic," interrupts Sirius, patting James's shoulder absently, and taking another drink of his beer. "But come sit down and listen to the game — our fridge never did anything to you."

"Shh," James says again, as Lily sits back down in her earlier place. "Quiet," he adds, turning the Wireless up to a rather alarming volume.

The announcer's voice fills the room with a tinny shout of "— that brilliant shot, it's 90-20 Kenmare! And the Quaffle's back to—"

Remus claps his hands over his ears; he appears to be trying not to howl in pain.

"COME ON," James yells, at twice the volume of the Wireless. "COME ON, YOU USELESS SACKS OF SH —"

Sirius's claps a firm hand over James's mouth, before Imogen can say anything about indoor voices and watching their language. " _James_."

"Mmmf."

Remus takes advantage of James's incapacitation to go over to the Wireless and turn the volume down somewhat.

Wrenching Sirius's hand away from his face, James exclaims, "Back off, Moony, I was listening to that!" He then turns the volume right back up again, just as Kenmare scores once more. "YES!"

"James, dear, you're breaking our eardrums," Imogen comments, with a small wince.

"Did you hear that!" James says, still speaking very loudly as he turns to face Sirius, ignoring everyone else in the room. "That's 100-20, they only need seven more goals now!"

"I think the neighbours heard," mutters Sirius, before saying, more loudly, "That's great!"

"You'll come with me to celebrate our victory up in Portree, won't you?"

Sirius doesn't look like he has the heart to remind James that they've not won yet, so he scoffs instead. "You think I'd let you go up there and get molested by your fans on your own?"

His mind seemingly on something besides the game for a minute, James grins at him. "No, you usually like to do the molesting yourse—"

"They've scored again," Remus blurts.

Lily makes a face as James whoops again, even louder this time.

Sirius sighs.

"Six to go," James mutters at the wireless. "Come on, Atkinson, I know you can do it."

"There's something you don't hear every day," mutters Sirius.

"Were the Harpies' Chasers always this rubbish?" Lily asks Sirius, not even bothering to direct the question at James.

"Not _quite_ ," replies Sirius, shaking his head. "I think they must be having an attack of nerves, or something."

"Poor things," murmurs Imogen.

"No, not poor things, it serves them ri— YES!! YES, TAKE THAT!"

"Five more," says Remus, obviously trying to inject some excitement into his voice.

James is by now standing on the sofa, shoes and all, while Sirius sighs and ignores the damage to his lovely white cushions. "I'm very sorry about this, you know," he says, to the other three.

Lily, grinning, says, "Are you kidding me? You could sell tickets to this, you know."

"Not if I wanted to keep living."

"YES!" James yells, kicking a cushion rather violently as Kenmare scores once again. "Oh, this is —"

"Unbelievable," says Sirius, not even bothering to try and stop James from abusing the furniture.

Remus is staring at James with something like fascination.

As suddenly as he jumped up, James collapses back down. "Shit, shit, Merlin's arse, you wankers, don't mess this up."

"James," protests Imogen immediately, though she sounds rather as if her heart isn't in it. She's smiling, anyway. "Really."

"Sorry, mum."

"He isn't, really," Sirius puts in.

Lily seems to be having a hard time not laughing.

"I don't know whether to be horrified or amazed," mumbles Remus.

"ONLY THREE MORE!" James yells, louder than anything that's left his mouth this evening, as Kenmare scores again. 

Remus claps his hands back over his ears again. "… right, horrified it is, then."

Launching himself across the sofa, half-onto Sirius's lap, James adds, at a more normal volume, "I can't listen to this."

"Oof. Really," says Sirius, looking down at James and arching a brow. "Should I turn it off?"

"No!"

"Hm, I thought not."

"Hold me," James mumbles.

Sirius obediently wraps his arms around James, looking a little amused.

"Was he always like this?" Lily asks Imogen, with a bemused look at the two men on the sofa.

"You should have seen him when he was little," Imogen answers, with an affectionate look for her son.

"There wasn't a Cup at stake when I was little," James mumbles.

"No, but you jumped on the sofa then, too."

James ignores this, only making a very tiny noise when Kenmare scores another goal.

"How many more do they need?" asks Remus, tentatively emerging from the safety of his hand-shaped earmuffs.

"Two," James mumbles, looking very very VERY nervous by now. "Two, and then to catch the Snitch."

"It's all very tense," adds Sirius, starting to get a little caught up in the game, as well. His arms tighten slightly.

"What shape would you say Kenmare's Seeker is in, Si?" James asks, looking close to tears by now.

Sirius considers for a second. "Only fair, most likely," he replies, frowning a bit. "This could go either way, depending."

James whimpers.

Lily covers her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing.

"… Why do I suddenly feel like we're waiting to find out if someone's died?" demands Remus.

"I think he might, if they lose," Lily replies, half-whispering.

James doesn't even appear to hear her.

"We _really_ don't want them to lose," Sirius adds.

"I see," Remus says, like he really doesn't.

"…and Chaser Mercedes Atkinson scores again; it's 160-20 Kenmare," the announcer says, the roar of the audience rising even more. "No sign of the Snitch."

"Shit," mutters Sirius, "only one more!"

James's grip on him is white-knuckled.

"James, dear, I know you're anxious, but you should probably try and remember to breath."

Taking his mother's advise, James is mid-gulp when the announcer, nearly shouting now, informs them that Kenmare have now brought the score to the required 170-20, and promptly chokes on the air.

"… holy shit," is apparently the only thing that Sirius can thin; to say, staring at James, his grey eyes blazing. James just stares back at him, wide-eyed.

"Holy shit," Sirius repeats, his voice rising.

"God, it's contagious," mutters Remus.

Even Lily looks rather focused on the Wireless by now.

Imogen's eyes are flicking between the Wireless and the other end of the couch, where James and Sirius are still staring excitedly at each other. Remus, on the other hand, is attempting to pretend he doesn't care. When the volume of sound from the Wireless suddenly increases, the announcer screaming that the Snitch has been spotted and both Seekers are already racing after it, however, he lets out an alarmed squeak.

James whimpers and tightens his grip on Sirius even further.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," Sirius is chanting, barely a whisper, as the Wireless blares even louder, the announcer's excitement palpable.

"— they're neck and neck with only a short stretch lef— And Kenmare's Andrews pulls ahead! Will the Kestrels really — I DON'T BELIEVE IT!! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT'S _HOLYHEAD'S PARKER_ WITH THE SNITCH!! The match is a tie— and _the Holyhead Harpies take the cup!_ "

James, mouth already half-open in preparation for a victory shout, blinks. And blinks. And blinks. Sirius's profane mantra dies abruptly. He looks… shocked.

Lily gazes nervously at the pair of them.

"Oh, dear," Imogen murmurs anticlimactically, her eyes also on her boys.

Remus, the least affected, looks around at everyone else, and tries very hard not to grimace.

Still gaping like a fish, James tries to talk. "Tu— would — someone —"

"Shut it off," Sirius snaps for him, his lips barely moving.

Standing up and walking over to the Wireless, Lily turns it off, placing one hand on James's arm. "Sorry, James."

"They were… so close…" Remus mutters, a little confusedly, looking like he wants to say something helpful but has no idea how.

"Beer," is Sirius's reply. "Now."

James is still blinking. Then, "I fucking _HATE_ the fucking Kestrels!!"

Sirius flinches slightly, beginning to glower. " _Beer_ ," he repeats more forcefully, turning his head to direct the word at Remus.

Remus stares back at him for a moment. He doesn't move.

"They can't even WIN properly —"

"Goddamn it, somebody get James a beer before he starts breaking things!"

Lily scurries into the kitchen.

Imogen, with a worried glance at her son, follows.

Sirius turns back to James and says "Fuck."


	35. 14–20 May 1984

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second Wednesday, 16 May question is courtesy of LiveJournal user [galadriel_lll](http://galadriel-lll.livejournal.com/).

**Monday, 14 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a huge problem! I lost most of my family in the war, and ever since it's like I won't let anyone close enough for me to love them. People think I'm standoffish but I'm really just too terrified of losing someone I love again that just not loving anyone seems preferable. Do you think this is unhealthy? If so, what should I do? /Loner** Dear Loner, It probably is a bit unhealthy, but it's rather understandable, given what you've been through. (You have my deepest sympathies for that. I lost some good friends during the war, but was lucky when it came to my family, so while I can imagine how tough it is for you, I don't actually _know_.) The best advise I could give you would be to see about professional counselling. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am so mad at my boyfriend! For his birthday I got him a new racing broom. For my birthday he got me a set of quills! I know it's not supposed to be about material things, but really, isn't this a bit too unfair? /Scorned girlfriend** Dear Scorned, Maybe he just really FAILS at gift-giving? I'd smack him a bit, either way. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What was your reaction to the outcome in the Quidditch cup? /Harpies Fan** Dear Harpy, Horror and shock. Shock and horror. I... I don't want to talk about it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm very happily married, aside from one little (big) detail: my husband snores something terrible! I can't sleep next to him and when I tried using earplugs I slept through my alarm and was late for work. Lately I've been sleeping in my daughter's bed because I just can't take it, and it's not really doing any wonders for the romance! Is there anything that can be done to save my marriage? /Deaf** Dear Deaf, ... Uh, Silencing Charms...? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm 19 years old, and all my friends are 35 or over. My siblings tease me about this and call me an old biddy, but I honestly get along much better with them than with my peers! Is there something wrong with me? Should I try to make friends closer to my own age? /Middle aged** Dear Middle, Actually, that's not as uncommon as you might think. I was never really that way myself — James is younger than me, actually — but I know a few people who are. And a few who get along best with those younger than they are! There are even a couple of ladies in my office who are best mates despite that Marcia is in her forties and Luanne isn't even thirty yet. But after all, age is just a number... as I always say. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Now that the Quidditch season is over, what is James going to do all day while you're at work? /Curious** Dear Curious, Clean up after me, of course! No, seriously, he's still does lots of training. It's all complicated and boring and I try to pretend I don't pay attention. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend is suffocating me! She's always tagging along when I'm out with my boyfriend, sitting next to me every class and every lunch break, waking me up in the morning, Flooing over during the holidays... I really like her but I need some time alone! How do I tell her this without upsetting her? /Fed up** Dear Fed, Gently point out that you need to spend time with other people, perhaps? Maybe you should just move to the States and join their witness protecting program, or whatever they call it. Though, that's rather a long way to go... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have been given an amazing opportunity to work my dream job overseas for two years. Six months ago I would have gone for it, no questions asked -- this is a once in a lifetime opportunity -- but now I've met someone I think might just be the love of my life. She can't go withme, and I'm not sure our relationship would survive the time apart, since we've only been together a couple of months. What should I do; follow my dreams or my heart? /Torn** Dear Torn, Well, that depends on which you value more; which you would regret the most. Personally, I don't think any job is worth giving up the "love of your life" — but I'm probably one of the few who don't. My best mate probably wouldn't agree, for example... but then, his dream job _is_ sort of the love of his life — he practically _breathes_ Quidditch — so perhaps it's not a fair example. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am a pureblood from an old family and I am the only male bearer of my family name. I really want a son to keep my name alive, but my wife refuses and thinks that the three daughters we have is enough. How can I make her see that she's being unreasonable, and that this is really important? /At wit's end** Dear Awe, Actually, I have no idea how you ought to do that, since honestly if your three girls have your name, or there are other females out there who also have it, I don't see what the fuss is about. It's not like your family's going to die out entirely just because you're out of males! Maybe one of your girls can bully her future husband into taking your name — or maybe it doesn't matter at all. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, A while ago, one of my best friends and I decided to take our relationship to the next level and see how well we worked as a couple. It's been about six months, and I'm starting to think we made a mistake. He seems really into me -- how can I tell him I want to go back to being just mates? /Girl friend** Dear Girl, Gently. If you _must_ , do it gently. Sirius   
---  
  
**Wednesday, 16 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any experience when it comes to dating a friend? What do you think the pros and cons are? /Rachel** Dear Rachel, Yeah, I do, a bit. The main con is probably that if the relationship goes sour, there's a good chance you've irreparably damaged a good friendship. And the biggest pro is that your significant other already knows you and you don't have to go through that awkward stage where you try to show off your best qualities before they find your worst ones. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius I can finally have a cat now that I live alone because my mother and sister are allergic to them so I couldn't have one before. But he's really, really mean. He bites me and scratches me (sometimes at 4 a.m.) and now I'm full of scars. Besides, he eats all my food and breaks everything I own. The vet says I have to castrate him to get him to behave, but it's really expensive and there's no guarantee it'll work. Should I castrate him or use that money to buy a new cat? /Gilly P.S. Don't let your personal feelings on castration bias your answer. P.P.S: I know for a fact not all cats are that mean, so don't let your personal feelings on cats bias your answer either.** Dear Gilly, I say castrate him. If you don't, he'll just become someone else's problem. Besides — and much as I hate to say this — if you don't intend him for stud, he doesn't need, er, to be not-castrated, anyway. Sirius PS: Nobody even THINK of asking if my dog is castrated. Remus I am looking at you. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, One of my coworkers is really, really, _really_ lazy. The rest of us can be working like slaves to finish something on time and she'll be sitting there doing her nails! Of course she always acts like employee of the year in front of our boss. What should I do? I really don't want to rat her out! /Busy bee** Dear Busy, Slip a sleeping potion into her coffee sometime when you're expecting the boss to be around. Or arrange to meet her in a dark alley and rip all her nails out with a set of pliers. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever lived on your own? /Polly** Dear Polly, No, actually, I haven't. James wouldn't let me. Not that I _wanted_ to, mind you! If he hadn't come willingly, I probably would have stunned him, trussed him up, and stuffed him in my trunk. I mean... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. The problem has a name; her name is Maria, she's my best mate's girlfriend, and she is EVIL. I'm not saying I don't like her, I'm saying she is evil. You know, the rip-whiskers-off-of-cats, steal sweets from a kid, shove people off the pavement on purpose kind of evil. However my best mate can't see this at all and thinks she's the most wonderful and perfect being to ever walk this earth! What can I do to save him from her evil clutches? /Concerned friend** Dear Concerned, You saw what I said to do about the lazy co-worker? (The second half, the part with the alley and the removal of fingernails.) Yeah? Do that. Only with her head. Or if you're not that bloodthirsty, stalk her until you get photographic evidence. Or, if you suspect your friend's been Confounded, take him to a specialist. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, With all of this kid talk and fathers preferring sons, I have to wonder: if you ever had children, what gender would you prefer and why? /Viola** Dear Viola, Um. Actually. I don't know. A boy would probably be fun. But a girl... well... if I had a daughter... I really just don't know! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Last week I sold my soul to a mate for a pint (I was completely skint) and now I'm sort of regretting this! Is there any nice way I can ask for it back? /Soulless** Dear Soulless, Really? You sold your soul? For a pint? Are you sure you actually handed it over to your mate, and you aren't still carrying it around with you? If you aren't, maybe try offering to pay double the price of the pint, in exchange for getting it back. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, One of my good friends just got dumped by her long-term boyfriend and is really torn up about this. Is there anything I can do for her, and if so, what? /Hurting** Dear Hurting, Well, have you tried killing the ex...? Chocolate, ice cream, chocolate ice cream, and Muggle chickflicks are good for post-breakup comforting. You might also try shopping. A new pair of shoes makes everyone feel better. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's possible for an introvert and an extrovert to be in a successful and happy romantic relationship together? Why or why not? /Meyer** Dear Meyer, Sure I do! In fact, it's clearly a match made in heaven, as the introvert can do all the thinking, and the extrovert all the talking! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is James's opinion on your motorbike? /Anita** Dear Anita, He doesn't like her much, in all honesty. Says she's not as good as a broom. I think he's crazy. She's a much better ride than any dumb piece of woo— Er. Never mind, no she's not. Ahem. In conclusion: James doesn't like my bike. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
16 May 1984  
5.24 pm_ **

 

A very frustrated, rather confused expression on his face, Sirius stops in the middle of his front hall. Hands on his hips, he looks around, into the James-less living room, down the James-less hall toward the James-less kitchen, past the James-less closet and finally toward the James-less steps leading to the James-less corridor and his James-less bedroom. He frowns rather magnificently.

"Oi," he mutters to himself, grumpily.

A rather large crash comes from somewhere upstairs, followed by a nearly as loud "Shit".

Sirius's expression grows more bemused. A moment later, his hands drop from his waist as he starts quickly up the stairs. "James?" he practically yells.

"Yeah?"

"Where _are_ you?"

"I'm in my room!" James replies, still very loudly. "Where are _you_?"

"The doorway," replies Sirius, as he reaches it.

James is kneeling on the floor, peering underneath the bed. "Merlin, it is so dusty in here."

Sirius regards him somewhat askance. "What are you _doing_ in here?" he demands.

"Excavating."

"Why?" presses Sirius, still standing just outside the door. He looks distinctly nonplussed.

Pulling his head out from beneath the bed, James sits back to look at him. "I'm looking for my practice Bludger."

"Oh." Sirius frowns lightly. "I could summon it…"

"No!"

"Er, all right," replies Sirius, and now he looks incredibly confused. "Why not? You can't really _want_ to be crawling around down there…"

James gives him a look. "I tried that already. It's stuck next to something that sounds fragile."

"Oh, Merlin, not the box of Widow-y Bits."

"Afraid it might be," James mutters, opening his bedside drawer (which is much too small to house a Bludger, anyway) and peeking inside. "Problem is, I can't remember where I put _that_ , either."

Sirius takes a better look around the room. He looks a little impressed by the chaos. "Fuck, it's _messy_ in here," he announces, as if James — who has dust in his hair — isn't already aware of it.

James sounds rather suffering. "I know."

Sirius finally takes a step into the room, to get a closer look at the sloppy piles of Evening Prophets spread on the bed. "I mean, _your room_ is actually _messy_ ," he says, still looking rather amazed.

"Well, what do you expect?" asks James as he moves over to look behind the curtains. "I haven't actually _been_ in here for ages."

"I know," replies Sirius, heaving a little exasperated sigh. "Which explains why I couldn't find you.— Seriously, the curtains?"

"How am I supposed to find anything in this mess?" James replies, perhaps a little testily. "I should just clean this place properly —"

"How was _I_ supposed to find _you_?" counters Sirius, and he looks vaguely annoyed. "And why would you need to clean, if nobody comes in here?"

"It _is_ still my bedroom."

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Sirius's silence finally causes James to stop his searching and regard him. "What?"

Sirius shrugs. His expression is very grumpy.

"Why were you looking for me, anyway?"

Sirius shrugs again, and his gaze slips a little sideways. He now looks more pitiful than grumpy. James raises an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly as his gaze wanders from Sirius's face to his crotch. 

"I was… bored," Sirius eventually mumbles. "Thought I'd see if you wanted to go— er… come— er… Upstairs."

"Uh-huh."

Shrugging again, Sirius goes on, "But obviously, you, ah, are already."

"Obviously," James echoes, grinning more fully now. "And I'm busy, so you're out of luck. For now."

"I see that."

"You could help me out, you know."

Sirius's answer is yet another shrug.

Pushing at least half a dozen old newspapers onto the floor, James sits down on his bed. "We could at least extract my bed. …and maybe do something about the dust."

Sirius frowns, flicking another glance at the dust in James's hair. "Extract your bed to where, exactly?"

"Extract it _from_ its newspapery prison."

Sirius makes a face at the newspapers. "Just banish the papers, then?"

James shakes his head. "No, I want to keep these."

"Why?" Sirius wonders aloud, after a moment of blinking. He gives the papers a dubious look. "They're all _old_ — and they're not even all ones with your games in them, either!"

"They're — I just want to keep them, all right?"

"But _why_?" repeats Sirius, obviously baffled. "Pack-ratting is _my_ thing."

James looks at his feet, suddenly appearing a bit embarrassed. "I liked your column in these."

Sirius responds with a sort of slow blink. "… You didn't save the one about you being muscley, did you?"

"I'd prefer not to answer that question."

Suddenly, Sirius is grinning. "You did, didn't you." It is not a question this time.

"Shut up," James replies, though he, too, is grinning. "You gonna help me dig out my bed or what?"

Sirius's grin gets a little sharp. "I still don't see the point," he says, too casually.

"Why not?"

The grin is visibly rather forced, now. "What, you going to be needing it soon?"

James shrugs, still grinning. "Never know when you might kick me out of yours."

"I do, actually."

"You do?"

"Know when I might kick you out of bed, I mean," clarifies Sirius, abandoning his grin entirely, to regard the newspapers with extreme interest.

"Care to share?" James asks, his grin also missing.

"Well, I really don't think I'd enjoy having, y'know, your decaying corpse next to me while I sleep, or anything, so…"

"… shut up," says James again, grin back as he chuckles slightly.

"What?" asks Sirius, forcing a chuckle of his own. "Necrophilia's really not my scene, you know."

"I should hope not!"

"Yeah…" Sighing, Sirius turns his attention back to James's face. "You really want your bed cleared, then?"

James shrugs. "It just seems strange to have it be this… messy and unusable."

"I like it unusable," Sirius mutters to himself.

"Si, it's not like I'd start sleeping in here if it were usable."

Sirius grunts, looking rather like he wants to ignore the whole subject altogether. "I know that," he growls, and stomps the rest of the way over to the bed.

"In fact, I —" James trails off. He's staring at his shoes again.

"You… what?" Sirius asks quietly, reaching for one of the newspapers in an attempt to not look desperate interested in James's answer.

"Never mind," James mutters.

Sirius drops the paper. "No, what?"

Looking highly awkward by now, James says, "Just that… maybe we could make better use of this room. Since I'm not sleeping in here anymore, and all."

"Better use?" echos Sirius, slowly. He peers at James quizzically. "You mean… I dunno, a guest room? What?"

James shrugs again.

"James?"

"Never mind. This works."

"Jaaaaames!"

"I don't know!" James repeats, his left hand coming up to run through his hair. "Anything would be better use than this!"

"I suppose…" Sirius looks around the room yet again, more slowly this time. "Huh. Well. As long as you're not sleeping in here…"

"Yeah. Well." James clears his throat. "I mean."

"… what?"

"… I need to sleep _somewhere_."

Sirius stares at him. James avoids his eyes.

"But…" Sirius frowns. "But that's what _my_ room is for."

"I know _that_ ," James says, still looking away from him. "But it's —"

Sirius crosses his arms, still frowning. "James Potter, is there something wrong with my room?"

"It's _yours_."

Sirius's face goes pink, then white, a bit like he thinks _maybe_ someone slapped him. His mouth falls open a little, but he apparently can't decide what to say, because no sound comes out.

Seeming to sense his confusion, James says, "Meaning it's not mine. Well… ours." His ears go slightly pink as he says this.

"…Oh." The colour comes back to Sirius's face, and brings along a little extra, for company. "Right."

"And… everyone needs a bedroom, y'know?" This comes out in a rush.

"Oh," Sirius repeats, more calmly. "But that's _easy_ to fix."

"It is?"

Sirius shrugs. "Sure. You can just share mine." A quick smirk. "You do already anyway."

"Not officially," James mumbles.

"So we make it official, then." With remarkable speed, Sirius's smirk turns into a frown. "Not like I'm gonna let you sleep anywhere else," he mumbles.

"… let me?" James asks, raising his eyebrows.

Sirius pulls a face. "Let, approve of, enjoy, whatever," he replies, still mumbling. After a brief pause, "I sleep better."

"Uh-huh," James says, grinning now. "After I wear you out."

"When you're _there_ ," snaps Sirius, and now he looks incredibly annoyed, shooting a glare at the whole room, especially the bed.

"Sirius, I have been up here for less than half an hour!"

Sirius grumbles something.

James laughs. "So."

" _So_." Sirius kicks the bed grumpily. "… if I help you clean this place out, do I get sex?"

"That depends."

"Oh _what_?!" Sirius looks shocked.

"On whether we find that damn Bludger or not." James looks very smug. "That _was_ why I came in here in the first place for, you know."

"… and which way do I get sex, then?"

"What do you mean, which way?"

"If we find the Bludger, or if we don't?" Sirius asks, his expression shrewd.

"Maybe you'll just have to guess," James grins back, looking very smug by now.

"I was kind of hoping you'd tell me, actually," sighs Sirius. "That way I could decide whether or not I want to tell you where it is."

"… wait, you _know_?"

Sirius grins, a little sheepishly. He shrugs.

James looks like he's trying to frown and failing miserably.

"So? Do I tell you, or pretend it's unfindable?"

"How about we make a deal?"

Sirius arches a brow curiously. "What sort of deal?"

"One: you tell me where my Bludger is," James says, holding up one finger. 

"Uh-huh…"

"Two: an hour from now we do something about this mess."

"… an hour?"

James just grins at him.

Sirius considers this. "… that's it?"

"What, were you expecting something shrewish and housewifey?" James asks, standing up and dusting himself off. 

"No," says Sirius, eyeing James in hungry a way that has nothing to do with dust. He reaches out to brush a particular dust bunny from James's hair. "But when it comes to you and Quidditch, I never know."

"Well, y'know… it _is_ the off season."

Sirius's answering grin is wolfish. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"All right, then." Sirius takes a step back.

"So where is it?" James asks, looking around the room. 

Sirius takes another step back and points to a small stack of boxes against the wall. One seems to have a little less dust on it, and sticking up between the flaps on the top there is a shiny, purple porcelain witch's hat, next to an equally glossy — and equally purple — feathery wing. Under this, and behind a couple of its cardboard fellows, is a sturdier, smaller wooden chest. "Try in there," he suggests.

"Over there?" asks James, walking over to the wall and removing the top box. "So," he asks as he uncovers the wooden chest. "What _should_ we do with this room?"

"Storage?" Sirius offers idly, watching James.

"You don't want a home office?"

"I spend enough time at my real office, I don't want an imitation."

Uncovering the rather dusty wooden box, James turns to face him once again. "And I don't suppose you'd let me turn it into a Prides shrine?"

"Would _you_ let _me_ turn it into a shrine for Mathilda Ermyntrude?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"My point exactly," replies Sirius.

"It _could_ have been my trophy room," James mumbles, just as he extracts the Bludger from the wooden box. "Et voila!"

"It could _still_ be your trophy room," points out Sirius, grinning to see that he was right. "And look at that, where I said it would be. See how useful I am?"

"For my imaginary trophies?"

"No, stupid," admonishes Sirius, walking over to wrap an arm around James and lean a little against his side. "For the trophies you _will_ get in the future."

James looks rather amused. "And what sort of trophies would that be?"

"Well, I'm sure they'll give you one when you help England to the Cup…"

"Optimistic, are we?"

Sirius chuckles. "Nah, prophetic! I'm a Seer, didn't I ever tell you?"

"Hah!"

"Until you get all these enormous and embarrassingly shiny trophies, though," mutters Sirius, leaning over to nuzzle the side of James's neck, even though his hair is still slightly dusty, "I say we… I don't know… fill the place with chocolate cake?"

James turns to look at him. "How incredibly unhygenic!"

"Joke, love."

"I know."

"'Course you do," whispers Sirius, and he kisses the side of James's neck lightly.

".... you're trying to distract me, aren't you?" The tone of voice in which James asks this is rather pleased.

"Only from the fact that I have no real suggestions," answers Sirius, with another light kiss. "Besides. We're wasting that hour you specified."

Chuckling, James says, "Storage it is, then. For now."

"Excellent." Sirius raises his head to regard James with a pair of mildly pathetic puppy eyes. "Shall we go to _our_ room, then?"

James's smile widens into a very toothy grin. "I like the sound of that."

Sirius begins tugging James toward the door, using the arm around his waist. "Come on, then."

* * *

**Friday, 18 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem with my parents. They're so overprotective! I'm nearly fifteen and they still treat me like I'm five. For example, they both have to work all summer, but instead of just leaving me on my own they're having my grandma come over every day to babysit! What can I do to make them see I'm not a baby anymore? /Only child** Dear Child, Stop throwing a fit and enjoy your grandmother's company. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, When was the last time you were truly content? /Optimist** Dear Optimist, Last night, right before I fell asleep. No, this morning, right after I woke up. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What can you do if you're always tired? I fell asleep during a work meeting the other day and it was really embarrassing! I've tried increasing my coffee dose but all it does is make me need to run to the loo all the time. Help? /Snoozer** Dear Snoozer, Try sleeping more. At _night_ , I mean! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I love my family very much, however there is a big problem: they're all sort of racist! They're not violent or anything, but they do throw around racist slurs as thought it's nothing. This really bothers me -- how can I make them stop? /Embarrassed** Dear Embarrassed, Explain to them that they're acting like bigots — the dangerous, sneaky, low-key kind. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it really true that your Hogwarts years are always the happiest years of your life? Because if so I'm not really looking forward to the rest. /Doubtful** Dear Doubtful, No, it's not at all true! It's a great big lie people tell you to get you to not complain about how miserable it is to be a teenager. Cheer up; life gets much, _much_ better. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. A while ago a friend and I decided to be friends with benefits, no strings attached, free to date other people. It's worked great (and has been wonderful) but now I'm starting to fall for him! I really doubt he feels the same way about me, as he's made it clear in the past that he finds our situation ideal as it is. What should I do? /Lovelorn** Dear Lovelorn, The first thing you need to do is _stop_ the benefits aspect of your friendship, right now. I mean that — _right now_. It is dangerous and unhealthy, if you think you're in danger of falling for him completely, as it'll only make the descent faster. Other than that, find someone else to focus on, as quickly as you can. That's the best I could advice. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you know if you suffer from seasonal affective disorder? /Sad** Dear S.A.D., You ask a professional. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your opinion on people who kiss and tell? Have you ever done this yourself, or had someone do it to you? /Gossiping Grace** Dear Gossip, There's a certain level of "telling" that I think is natural and fine. But going around giving unsolicited, explicit details to people it doesn't concern at _all_ is rude, disrespectful, and annoying. I, myself, do a bit of the former — as most people do I think — but _not_ the latter. I don't really think anyone's dared to do the latter to me. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently sent my boyfriend of five years down to the shop to pick up some household items, including female hygiene products for me. However, he came home without these, and when I asked him about it he freaked out and told me I was insane for asking him to do it in the first place! Isn't he being a bit immature? He is nearly thirty years old, after all. You'd think he'd have accepted this part of female biology by now! /Frannie** Dear Frannie, Yes, he's being rather immature. Feminine hygiene products won't kill him, nor will the bodily functions that necessitate them, and if he's a man he'll realise this. Smack him around the head with those feminine hygiene products a few times if he takes too long about it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, One of my best friends was recently telling me about an encounter she had with a boy, and I think she was lying to shock me. She told me that she put her mouth on... well, that unmentionable male place! Surely people don't do this? It must be so unhygienic! /Shocked, aged 15** Dear Young One, Oh, dear. Actually, people _do_ do that. I don't know how _hygienic_ I'd say it was, but there are... certain compensations... involved. But that's nothing you need to worry about, if you don't want to. Sirius PS: Tell your friend that I hope she made the Boy work for it.  
---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading the next chapter, perhaps you'd like to check out a bonus scene? [16 May 1984](http://archiveofourown.org/works/856493).


	36. 21–27 May 1984

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second Wednesday, 23 May question is courtesy of LiveJournal user [galadriel_lll](http://galadriel-lll.livejournal.com/).

**Monday, 21 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm very much in love with my girlfriend, and we're very happy and all that. However, there is a problem: she uses way, way, WAY too much perfume. I can actually smell her from another room! Sure, it's a nice smell, but it's so strong that it's giving me a headache. How do I tell her this in a nice way that won't make her slap me? /Numb-nosed** Dear Numb, A nice way that won't get you slapped? I guess telling her she smells like a whorehouse is out, then. Pity. How about you skip telling her at all, and just break all of her perfume bottles...? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend is coming over to stay at my house this summer, and I'm really looking forward to it. However, I have one BIG worry: my parents are nudists. I've gotten used to it, but I'm just not sure they'll have the sense to put some clothes on around my friend! Should I warn her, so that at least she's prepared? /Fully dressed** Dear Dressed, No, don't warn her! Why would you do a silly thing like that? It'd take all the fun out of her seeing your parents for the first time — think of the shock on her face! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am a caffeine addict who tragically enough can't drink coffee anymore due to a sensitive stomach. The withdrawal is KILLING me — do you know of any good substitutes? /Drained** Dear Drained, How about tea? Fizzy drinks? Caffeine pills? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, About two years ago my husband and I lost our first (and only) child in crib death. Obviously this was very hard on us but we're managing the best we can. However, my husband is ready to have another child and I just don't know how I feel about this. On one hand, I would love to have a family, but on the other I don't want to feel as though I'm replacing the one I lost. What should I do? /Mother without a baby** Dear Mum, Here, look at it this way — if your first child had lived, and was now a toddler and not a baby at all, would you feel as if you were replacing them because you wanted a new baby? Hopefully not, as all children are different, unique in their own way, and no one could ever replace any other one. No-one is asking you to forget your first child — just to move forward, and not waste your life grieving over something you couldn't control. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently started a new relationship and everything is going great. Too great, in fact -- my problem is that I'm too attracted to my partner! I'm so into him that it's almost embarrassing. So much for trying to stay aloof and cool! Do you have any suggestions on how to be less turned on by your significant other? /Lovestruck** Dear Lovestruck, I understand your problem _completely_! Sadly, I haven't come up with anything that consistently works as a defense... though maybe try imagining them old, flabby and wrinkly? That sometimes helps. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a huge crush on a friend of mine; however I haven't told her this as I know she's not into me. I'm fine with this, but lately she's been talking nonstop to me about all of these other people she fancies! This is really bothering me — how can I get her to stop without revealing how I feel? /Fifth wheel** Dear Fifth, Start pointing out every little thing that is wrong with every single one of those other people she fancies. Don't even try to be nice about it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a brother who's two years younger than me, and he's driving me mental! He's always getting into trouble and blaming it all on me, and my parents always side with him! He's even getting away with it here at school! Is there any way I can make my parents see he's not a perfect angel like they think he is? /"Bad" kid** Dear Bad, Get him to go join the DE's and then di— Actually, never mind, that doesn't work anyway. Er. Veritaserum in his pumpkin juice, with witnesses to back you up in what he confesses? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. See, my girlfriend is half French, and when we first started dating I told her I speak fluent French to impress her. However I can barely say "hello". So far this hasn't been a problem, but she's just told me she's booked a trip to visit her family in Marseilles this summer! HELP! Are there any good, really really fast French schools around? /Ne Parle Pas** Dear Screwed, Not that I know of! I think you'd better tell your girl the truth, before you end up accidentally calling her mother a cheap whore and her father the son of a shiny tomato monkey. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the best gift you've ever been given? /Kasey** Dear Kasey, My friends. Do they count? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think my significant other's family hates me! I haven't done anything to make them dislike me, I don't think, so it has to be a personal thing. This is really awful — I actually think this one might be THE one, so I need to get along with his family! What should I do? /Rejected** Dear Rejected, Don't give up, that's what you should do. Stay nice and polite and civil and pretend you don't notice that they don't like you. If you're lucky, you'll convince them of how wonderful you are and then — problem solved! Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
22 May 1984  
5.08 pm** _

"… and then Monet was all, 'Well the Kestrels _do_ have better Beaters than you do', completely ignoring the fact that one of them tried to kill me, and I really don't get why Sirius thinks she's so ni— Moony, are you even listening to me?"

James, seated on his living room sofa, gives the other man in the room a rather indignant look.

Remus jumps slightly, his elbow slipping off the armrest of James's ugly armchair and knocking his head out of his hand. He blinks once or twice. "Er… what? Sirius thinks someone is nigh?"

"Nice, Remus, nice!"

"Nice, right," mumbles Remus, and he looks a little confused. "Er… so who does he think is nice?"

James looks somewhat pained. "Monet."

"... what, the Muggle painter?"

"Alicia Monet!" James half-roars. "Keeper for the Harpies!"

Remus looks a little shell-shocked by the force of James's reply. "Oh. Right. Of course. For the Harpies."

"You know, the one who lost me my cup by flying into her own goalpost because her shoe distracted her?"

"But…" Remus frowns, obviously still confused. "But didn't you _want_ the Harpies to—"

"That is beside the point!" James huffs. " _Nice_. Nice, my arse."

"Uh-huh. So if she _isn't_ nice, why does Sirius think she is?"

James scoffs. "Probably wants in his pants —"

Remus pulls a face — one with very loud sound effects of disgust, which despite their volume still don't manage to mask the sound of the front door banging open.

As it slams shut again, Sirius's voice fills the house. "Honey! I'm hooooooooooooooooome!" His boots can be heard thudding against the floor as he takes them off.

Face lighting up, James turns his face towards the door.

"James, love," calls Sirius, his voice muffled for a moment, as if he's pulling a shirt off over his head, but obviously getting closer as he moves towards them. "Where are— Oh. Hi."

"Hey," James replies, grinning at him. "How was work?"

Standing in doorway to the living room, holding a jumper in one hand, Sirius is staring at Remus and clearly trying very hard to mask a disappointed expression. "Not bad," he says in response to James's question. He sighs slightly, then turns his head to give James a little grin, too. "Adelaide has apparently decided that if she brings me mochas I'm obligated to let her hang around my desk and chat at me."

".... how many have you had today?"

"Four." Sirius's grin gets wider, as he crosses to stand behind the couch, leaning over and dropping his jumper onto the cushion next to James. "I think."

"… you _think_?" repeats Remus, eyeing Sirius carefully.

"Mm, I lost count. They were huge." Still leaning over the back of the sofa, Sirius puts a hand on James's face and tips his head back, bending down to gently kiss him.

"Merlin save us all," James mumbles against his lips. 

Remus shifts uncomfortably.

Sirius chuckles, briefly catching James's lower lip between his teeth, then pulling away. "Now I need a snack," he declares, looking at James's mouth with eyes that are only half-open.

"Please stay away from the sugar," James advices. His stern tone is betrayed by his smile.

"At least I don't eat it plain anymore," says Sirius, with a small laugh as he straightens. He shoots Remus a friendly smile as he turns toward the kitchen. "Either of you want anything?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Same here," adds Remus, his answering smile just slightly off. His cheeks are the faintest bit pink.

Sirius shrugs. "Suit yourselves. If you change your minds, let me know." He disappears into the kitchen, whistling slightly to himself.

For some reason, Remus looks a little relieved.

".... why do you look like that?"

The pink on Remus's cheeks darkens a shade. "Like what?" he asks innocently.

James's smile has completely faded by now. "Like your mum just caught you with a dirty magazine."

The pinkness gains three or four shades, all the way into red by now. "I don't know what you're talking about.

James narrows his eyes. "You said you'd be fine with it!"

Remus's expression instantly becomes rather guilty. "I _am_ fine with it!"

"You don't look fine!"

"Well," mutters Remus defensively. "Well, I wasn't expecting— expecting _flaunting_!"

" _Flaunting?_ " James says, sounding more than a little incredulous. "That was no worse than what you and Evans have been doing for the past four years —"

"Sirius looked like— like— like he was about to jump over the sofa and _devour_ you, or something!" Remus exclaims in an undertone, still rather defensive. "I don't look at Lily like that!"

The whistling in the kitchen pauses.

"Dev— right," James says, pausing before raising his voice. "Si, I've changed my mind, I do want something!"

Sirius's head appears in the doorway so quickly, he was probably waiting for someone to call him. "Yeah?"

"C'mere."

Sirius obeys. "You said you wanted something?" he asks, as he approaches the sofa.

"Come here," James repeats, indicating the spot right in front of him.

Raising his brows, Sirius does.

With a very pointed look at Remus, James grabs onto both of Sirius's hands and pulls down. Hard. Stumbling slightly, Sirius falls forward into James's lap. He blinks in surprise. "James—"

Not giving him a chance to say anything further, James buries both of his hands in Sirius's hair, yanking him down until their lips meet in a not at all gentle way. While Remus stares at them with a rather startled, deer-in-the-headlights sort of expression, Sirius lets out a startled growl that ends in a moan. His hands, extended to catch himself before hitting James's chest, curl in his shirt.

Still staring, Remus opens his mouth — probably to protest the other men's activity — but nothing comes out.

One of James's hands — the one closest to Remus — moves down to Sirius's arse. Sirius moans again, and shifts his legs to straddle James's thighs. Replying with a moan of his own, James pulls Sirius even closer, the hand still in his hair clenching into a fist. Rather obviously, Sirius rocks his hips forward against James's.

Red-faced, Remus finally manages to object... with a squeak.

Pulling back with a rather audible 'smack!', James turns to look at him. Sirius doesn't take his eyes off of James.

"I say," Remus mumbles, clearly trying to ignore the way Sirius's breathing has become noticeably heavier and he is still lightly rocking his hips. "That's—"

" _That_ was flaunting, Moony."

Remus makes that noise that sounds like a dying squirrel again.

"Oh," murmurs Sirius, finally stilling his hips. He gives James a curious look. "Was that what we were doing?"

"Uh-huh," James replies, keeping his eyes on Remus. 

Sirius pouts, slightly. "… you know, if we were flaunting, you should have taken my shirt off."

Remus's noise this time is much shriller.

Chuckling slightly, James turns back to Sirius, giving him a brief kiss before removing his grip on him. "Off."

"That," Sirius thrusts his hips forward, once, "was what I was _going_ for."

"Oi!!"

"Sirius," James complains, voice perhaps a little deeper than usual, despite the tone.

Sirius pouts more obviously. "But you went and _started_ —"

"… I'm still in the room here!" exclaims Remus indignantly, his voice still higher than normal, though he seems to have gotten it back.

"Later," James mouths.

"You'd _better_ ," Sirius whispers back, leaning to give him a swift kiss before rising. James grins at him, then turns back to Remus.

Remus keeps his eyes pointedly averted as Sirius walks back to the kitchen, adjusting the front of his trousers.

"When we start doing _that_ you can complain."

"You just _did_ start," Remus points out, a little grumpily.

In the kitchen, Sirius's whistling resumes.

"That was for demonstration," James protests, crossing his legs. "Doesn't count."

"Sirius probably thinks it counted."

"Oh, trust me, he doesn't."

Remus mutters something.

"What was that, Moony?"

"Reckon he'd get me a beer?" says Remus more loudly. It is unlikely that this was actually what he just muttered.

James doesn't look convinced. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Well considering what the _last_ person who called him out of the kitchen wanted…"

"Well, don't ask him for _that_ ," James replies, looking rather amused. "I might have to punch you."

Remus blanches, and then goes red again.

Laughing, James calls out, "Si, get Moony a beer, would you?"

"Do I get to kiss you again?" Sirius calls back.

"No!"

Sirius's grunt of displeasure can be heard clearly. "Oh, fine." Then the refrigerator door slams.

Sirius stalks into the room carrying two beers, and Remus manages not to look him straight in the eye as he accepts his. "Thanks," he mumbles.

Sirius grunts again, and turns to James, holding out the other beer.

"Thank you," James says, slightly questioning.

"I know I'm not getting kisses for Remus's beer," explains Sirius calmly, "but I thought I might for _yours_."

He gives James an expectant look.

Remus sighs.

Muttering something about him being impossible, James nontheless motions for Sirius to lean down, which he does eagerly, putting a hand behind James's head.

Remus looks torn between uncomfortably looking away and staring in displeasure.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Moony!" James snaps.

"I'm sorry!" blurts Remus, as Sirius huffs impatiently and stalks off to the kitchen. "But… but he was doing that _thing_ again!"

"What thing?!"

Remus seems momentarily stumped. "He— he was being _sexy_!"

"Merlin forbid," James says. Very, very dryly.

"I mean," Remus says quickly, trying to defend his previous statement. "His voice was all— all—"

James just looks at him.

"— unnecessarily deep," Remus finishes, rather lamely.

"… you do realise how stupid you're being, right?"

Remus huffs. "… well I just don't like thinking about you thinking of him being like _that_ because it makes me think about _why_ you'd be thinking like that and that makes me think about him being— like _that_!"

"I think you think too much," James says, looking very confused.

"I am not supposed to think about getting turned on by Sirius!!" Remus proclaims loudly, looking a tad bit distraught.

Something clatters in the kitchen.

"No one's asking you to!"

"But you're _making_ me!"

There is a louder noise, vaguely like a crash, followed by muted swearing.

James rolls his eyes.

"You _encourage_ him," adds Remus, sourly.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James protests.

"So snogging him in front of me is nothing?"

"That was to prove a point!"

Remus huffs again. James looks rather annoyed.

"I'm sorry," Remus finally mumbles, face full of frown lines. "I'm really being unreasonable, aren't I?"

"A bit."

"I don't like being unreasonable." Remus sighs. "But…"

James waits.

"… but since you two— well, _that_ — my brain has suddenly put Sirius in the _girl_ category," Remus admits reluctantly, "and it's making me rather _insane_."

Something in the kitchen crashes again. "Bloody shit—"

" _Girl_?", James repeats, sounding rather incredulous. "He is _not_ a —"

"I know that!!"

The swearing from the kitchen continues, sounding rather pained.

"What happened?" James calls, ignoring Remus completely for a moment. "Did you break something?"

"Er— No," comes Siruis's voice, tight and still pained. "Ignore me."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Nothing broken in here!"

Remus gives James a dubious, guilty look.

"Do you believe him?" James asks, turning back to look at Remus.

"Well, he didn't say everything was _fine_ , did he?" Remus quietly points out, showing his years of experience with the other man. "Just that nothing was _broken_."

"… come with me?"

"You think it's bad enough you'll need a wing man?" But Remus is already setting down his beer and getting to his feet.

Looking rather worried, James hurries into the kitchen. Remus follows.

There are crisps scattered across the floor, an empty bowl lying near them, along with a knife; on the counter above is a cutting board and a half-sliced tomato. Sirius is standing over the sink, pressing a towel against his right palm and muttering profanely.

"… you were making crisps and tomatoes?" James asks, rather incredulous.

"Sandwich," replies Sirius, inserting the word into an obscene sentence regarding something's parentage or lack thereof.

Remus raises his eyebrow at the plate on the table, stacked with lettuce, cheese, roast beef, pickles, two slices of bread, and something that looks suspiciously like bits of avocados. "Uh-huh."

"And you decided to spice it up with a few fingers?"

"Accident," Sirius snaps back at James. He half turns, to wave his hand — the towel is visibly bloody — at the other two men. " _Palm_."

James turns to glare — not at Sirius, but at Remus. "Do something about that."

Remus blinks and looks startled. "Wha? What do you expect _me_ to do?"

"Heal it!"

"Can't _you_?"

"Of course I _can_ , but —"

"Either get out or somebody just fix it!" demands Sirius loudly, scowling and gesturing angrily at them again. "I would but it's my wand hand."

"You caused it!" James snaps, pushing Remus forward. "Sort it out!"

"All _right_!" Staggering forward, Remus pulls his wand out and motions for Sirius to remove the towel. With a low hiss, Sirius does, holding the hand forward.

Remus taps his wand once against the long, shallow cut across the top of Sirius's palm to clean it, and then again to close it.

Sirius hisses again.

James peers at it. "Better?"

"Fucking stings," mutters Sirius. He glances up at Remus. "Thanks."

"No problem," replies Remus, putting his wand away.

"It was your fault, anyway," James mutters.

"How?!"

"Bloody _girl_!"

Sirius glances between the other two men. "… You know, I _might_ have been pretending I didn't hear that."

"Please," James scoffs. "In this house with its paper walls?"

Sirius scowls. "Yeah, well, something _that_ demeaning—"

"Look," interjects Remus quickly, "I'm _sorry_ , it's just—"

"You mean you've got an _excuse_?!"

James leans back and just watches them.

"No!" Remus looks uncomfortable. "Well, not an _excuse_ , but it's just— _you_ , er, _were_ the one walking funny the other day—"

Sirius stares. "I _what_?"

"Walking funny!" Remus cries, turning a little red. "Which was quite awkward, I can tell you. I actually thought you'd _hurt_ yourself—"

"Remus!"

"Well, I did!" defends Remus, blushing more deeply. "You _do_ do that, you know." He looks pointedly down to Sirius's recently sliced palm.

James sighs deeply, running both hands through his hair as he shakes his head.

Sirius turns to James, scowlingly. "James," he growls. "If he doesn't stop, I'm going to—"

"Why're you telling _me_?"

"So you'll stop _me_!"

Remus sighs and holds up his hands defensively. "All right, all right, I've stopped! Just… don't hurt me."

"No one's going to hurt anyone," James says rather flatly. "How about we just… I dunno, go see if there's football on telly or something."

Sirius draws up short.

Remus eyes him warily.

"You want to watch _footie_?" Sirius asks slowly.

"And drink beer," James adds. "That's manly, isn't it?"

"… James, love, you don't _like_ footie."

"But beer _is_ manly," agrees Remus, after a moment.

James shrugs. "Maybe I'll enjoy it more this time. You can try to explain that broadside rule to me again."

" _Off_ side." Sirius does not look convinced. "And what about my snack, anyway?"

"… all right, how about _you_ two watch some footie, and I'll do your snack?"

Somehow Sirius's expression manages to brighten without actually _changing_. "Would you, please?"

"On one condition."

Remus is still standing with his hands raised protectively. He looks even more wary.

"Yeah?" Sirius asks.

Fixing Remus with a stare, James says, "No calling me a woman."

Remus turns bright red, and sputters.

Sirius is trying, poorly, to smother his laughter. "Oh, he wouldn't do that, James," he announces, smirking. " _You_ aren't walking funny!"

"Oh, shut it," James says, biting his lip to keep from grinning, "and get the hell out of my kitchen."

* * *

**Wednesday, 23 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Whenever we're being intimate, my partner pulls on my hair. I don't mind a bit of that, but we're talking HARD tugging here and it sort of hurts! How can I get it to stop before I go bald? /Owie** Dear Owie, Wear a hat! Or try telling them you won't do anything with them again until they learn to be more gentle. Or, you could simply handcuff them to something for the duration, so that they _can't_... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why did you miss the last Gryffindor game in your seventh year? And who was it against? /Gilly** Dear Gilly, It was against Slytherin, of course! As for why I missed it, I was... _avoiding_... something. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been going out with my boyfriend for about a year and I just found out he's MARRIED! What a total skeezeball! What should I do? Of course I've broken it off, but I feel he deserves more punishment than that. Any suggestions? /Alia** Dear Alia, How about telling his wife on him? If she's as furious as you are, I suggest plotting the kind of revenge that will leave him beaten, broke, castrated, and divorced (or dead). Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How can you tell if you're cursed? /Sneaking suspicion** Dear Suspicious, An interesting question! Maybe keep a list of how many things in your life go wrong, and how many go right? Or talk to an expert; that's always entertaining— er, helpful. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have really bad eyesight and it's so embarrassing! I should wear glasses all the time but they make me look like an owl so I don't, but I keep tripping over things instead and now people think I'm always drunk. Is there any good solution to this problem? /Bat** Dear Bat, Get smaller glasses? Walking around "drunk" all the time is no way to go through life. You'll never get laid that way. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a boxer. However, my parents tell me this is something only barbaric Muggle men do, not Pureblood girls! How can I make them see I pack a punch as good as any boy? /Uppercut** Dear Uppercut, I'm guessing that punching _them_ is out of the question... Do you live near any barbaric Muggle men you could beat up, as a demonstration? Or if that's not feasible, just tell them that you need to know how to punch things (properly!) so that if your future husband (it doesn't mater if you intend to have one or not) gets out of line you can get him off-guard with your non-magical whoop-ass powers. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is all the fuss about sex? I think I'm missing something. I'm very happy with my partner but I could do without the sex part, to be honest. I just do it to please him, really, because I don't really get anything out of it at all, aside from sore muscles the next morning. Is this normal or should I go see a Healer or something? /Bored in bed** Dear Poor Unfortunate, You are _definitely_ missing something! I'm not an expert on women's sex drives, or anything, but as I can't imagine not enjoying sex, I'm gonna have to say I really don't think that's normal and you should go see a Healer ASAP. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend of a couple of months has a four-year old son by another woman, which I don't mind at all. In fact he's the sweetest little boy ever and I love being around him. However, I really clash with his mother! This is obviously a problem as she's always going to be in my boyfriend's life. What should I do? /Hanna** Dear Hanna, Hire a professional assassin...? No, seriously, you're already said that this woman is always going to be in your boyfriend's life, so the only thing you can really do is decide whether he — and, of course, his son — are worth the aggravation she causes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the naughtiest thing you've ever done? /Katrina** Dear Katrina, I... don't think I can talk about that in public. Or the next naughtiest thing! For other reasons, though — they were very different kinds of naughty. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm getting married in July, but my fiancée and I can't decide where to go or what to do on our honeymoon! She wants to go to Venice; I want something a bit more action-packed like white water rafting or something. Can you think of any good compromises? /Whipped?** Dear Whipping Post, How about Venice without the gondolas? Not exactly white water rafting, but it's a _bit_ more "action-packed"... Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 25 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you know you're not a virgin anymore? Do you have to have actual intercourse for it to count? I don't FEEL like a virgin -- I'm a woman in a long term relationship with another woman, and while we have a very active sex life, of course that exact bit is missing. Since I've never been with a man, am I still technically a virgin? Not that it matters, but I'm just confused! /Virginia** Dear Virginia, From a medical standpoint, I think being a virgin means having an intact hymen. However, since it doesn't sound like you were speaking, er, medically, that really doesn't answer your question, does it? How 'bout this: You've had sex; you're not a virgin. There! All wrapped up nice and neat. Sirius PS: Want a bow? 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem: I talk way too much. I can tell I bother people with my blabbering and yet I can't stop! Do you have any suggestions on what to do before I drive everyone I know away? /Chatterbox** Dear Chatty, Um, invest in a gag? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I was recently hired as a nanny for a four-year old, but when I got to my employer's house I discovered he hadn't been entirerly truthful -- while he _does_ have a four-year old, it's a four-year old German Shepherd rather than a four year old child! Now, I'm a dog person so I don't really mind, but do you think this is dodgy? Any reason to worry? Should I go back home? /Dog nanny** Dear Nan, Well it's certainly a bit dodgy that the wouldn't have mentioned that his four-year old was a dog. (Unless the four-year old wasn't always a German shepherd and simply got the wrong end of a Transfiguration...?) Apart from that, no, I don't really think there's much reason to worry — I mean, what's weird about a dog nanny? I'd get one for my dog... were he not so wonderfully well behaved while I'm at work. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My five year old son walked in on my husband and I making love last week. I was mortified then, but even more so now since he won't stop asking me questions about it! I'm too embarrassed to answer any of them, but obviously ignoring him isn't working. What should I do? The other day he asked me about it in front of my mother in law! /Blushing** Dear Oopsie, Tell him it's a super secret spy thing that only grown-ups do, and if he keeps talking about it, he won't ever get to do it when he grows up. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I keep falling over all the time and it's really embarrassing. Is there any way to be more graceful? /Izzie** Dear Dizzie, Be careful. Move slowly. Walk on even surfaces only. Don't get distracted by sparkly vampires. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What are your plans for this summer? /Ali** Dear Ali, Actually, I haven't any, yet! As James has no proper Quidditch practices or things, however, we'll probably end up vacationing somewhere exotic for part of it. Possibly we'll even go back to Milwaukee! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I love my friends, but they're all too clever for me! They're super intelligent and I feel like a total meathead around them. It's really not good for my self esteem. What do you reckon I should do? Find stupider mates? /Bonzo** Dear Bonzo, Please, don't find stupider mates! At this point you're probably so used to being around clever people, that the stupider ones would be incredibly dull and make _you_ feel too clever! Cleverness can often be contagious and residual like that, you see. No, what you need to do is memorise bits of really ancient Scandinavian classics — the mythical, legendary stuff, I mean — in the original language. Then you can randomly insert them into ordinary conversations with a wise air and a enigmatic look, and you'll seem just as deep and clever as everyone else. Go on, try it! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm 12 years old and Muggleborn. I'm the only witch in my family. My three older brothers are giving me such a hard time about it! They keep calling me names and saying stupid things about Hogwarts and they say if I tell my mum they will flush my kitten down the toilet. Please help!! /Kaysa** Dear Kaysa, Why, the dirty toerags! Flushing kittens down toilets — even hypothetically! — is just not on! Here, I've an idea — tell them that you know this really horridly frightening escaped convict/mass murderer bloke named Sirius Black who loves kittens, and little witches who love kittens, and that if they don't stop, I'll come and glue them to their sheets while they sleep. And then set my slobbery horrid werewolf-like dog on them. Sirius PS: And I will, too! 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever wanted to be an Auror? Why, or why not? /K.S.** Dear K.S., Oh, I suppose I did, for a month or so when I was a teenager. It just seemed so dangerous and _cool_. Then, of course, I realised what an awful lot of work it must be, and that it'd probably get really boring chasing around Dark Wizards who aren't as clever I am, and just gave the whole idea up as a bad job. Literally. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm 16 years old and I have a problem: I have no idea what I want to do with my life! I'm not talking small scale, I really have no clue whatsoever! What should I do to gain some direction? /Confused** Dear Confused, You poor thing! Granted, I didn't know _what_ I wanted to do when I was 16 (though I had very definite ideas about _who_... er, nevermind), either, but that just makes me an expert on figuring out! To start with, try making a list of all the things you know that you _don't_ want to do. Go from there. Sirius  
---


	37. 28 May–3 June 1984

**Monday, 28 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Who is the biggest Smart Alec you know, and how do you deal with them without wanting to strangle them? /Frayed nerves** Dear Frayed, Unfortunately, the person in question is... me. Which is probably how I can deal with them without wanting to strangle, er, myself. I couldn't begin to tell you how to deal with someone ELSE who is a smart-alec. You might try asking my friends, though. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend of two months really wants us to take things to a more physical level. I'm not sure I'm ready yet, but his constant nagging is driving me mental! Should I just get it over with so he will stop pestering me? /Karen** Dear Karen, If you're thinking about it in terms of something that needs to be "got over with", then no, you shouldn't. In fact, you might want to let him know that you feel that way. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What were your reasons for fighting in the war? /Roona** Dear Roona, I had several, most of them with names; perfectly ordinary ones like "Lily" and "Remus"... There were reasons, too, of the — very fashionably — unpure variety. (Well, and also I just really didn't like skull tattoos.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a huge problem. I'm gay but no one knows and I don't want to be anymore. Is there any sort of therapy I can go to to make myself normal? Or some potion I could drink? I'm really desperate, please help! /Fairy** Dear Fairy, ... Oh, I _definitely_ recommend therapy. And that's probably all I can say to you without swearing. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have ANY decent family members? /Brigid** Dear Brigid, A few! My fabulous cousin Andi, and (while he was still alive) my uncle Alphard. But other than them, not really. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Last week you talked about hymens. Where can I find mine and how can I tell whether it's intact or not? /Benjamin** Dear Benjamin, Um... Actually, hymens are something that only girls need to worry about. So don't bother trying to find yours. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever had romantic feelings towards one of your mates' girlfriend? If so, how did you deal with it? /Jamie** Dear Jamie, No, I never have. Thank Merlin — that would have been right awkward. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you got any interesting scars? What are they, and how and when did you get them? /Al** Dear Al, Well, let me think. I've got this one between the thumb and first finger of my left hand that looks like an animal bite, that's pretty interesting... And there's one that's almost a perfect circle on my arm, from where James stabbed me with a quill during class one day... Oh, and the one on the back of my head that my hair covers, that I got when I "forgot" the trick step on a staircase, my last night at Hogwarts. A few others, here and there. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am a really horid speller! Do you have any tipps on how to get any bettar? All my taechars keep telinng me of! /Jude** Dear Jude, Er. Ouch. Maybe you ought to invest in a dictionary and read it frequently. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, During the last Hogsmeade weekend I fell down the flight of stairs near Gladrags. I was REALLY embarrassed and so I pretended it didn't hurt, brushed it off and laughed along with everyone else. However it really really hurt and I think I might have fractured my wrist! How can I go to the Hospital Wing without my friends noticing and realising I got hurt? /Red faced** Dear Red, Pretend you're concerned that you might have dislocated your brain during your last Potions class. Tell them it might be gross and disgusting to put back so they probably shouldn't come with. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 30 May 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the weirdest compliment you've ever recieved? /Nichole** Dear Nichole, One of my exes once told me that I had "nice, girly toenails" — which was pretty weird, since she'd never actually _seen_ them. And her sister told me that I was the sweetest rude man she'd ever met... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My boyfriend is really into Quidditch and I've been coming along to games with him all season. However I really don't get how the league points system works and now I'm way too embarrassed to ask him to explain it to me! Could you help? I'd really appreciate it! /Clueless** Dear Clueless, An understandable problem; it _can_ be a bit confusing. The way it works is that, every match, the winning team is awarded a number of points equal to how much they won by, and the losing team, well, _loses_ the same amount of points — the number by which they lost. For example, say that team A has 1400 points, one hundred more than Team B has at 1300, and Team A (1400) plays a match against Team C (900) which they lose, 350-150. That's 200 points that Team A loses, leaving them at 1200, one hundred points _behind_ Team B (1300), while Team C receives 200 points, putting them just behind Team A. In this way it's possible for Team B (1300) to wind up ahead of both Team A (1200) and Team C (1100), without actually being involved in a match with either. I hope that helped! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I always get told off for chewing gum in class. Is there any way I can chew without the Professors noticing? Do you like chewing gum? /Smacky** Dear Smacky, Possibly because I'm not especially fond of gum (sorry; I've better things to do with my mouth), I've never discovered a truly discreet way to chew it so the teachers don't notice. Maybe have only have a small bit, and keep it toward the back of your mouth? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am trying to convince my parents to let my boyfriend come spend a week at my house this summer. They're having none of it so I was wondering if you have any suggestions as to what I can say to make it sound perfectly harmless and get them to agree to it. Any insider tips and tricks? /Betsey** Dear Betsey, A-ha! Make it _sound_ perfectly harmless, you say — so it _isn't_ , eh? (I hope you didn't use your real name. They might read my column and get suspicious!) I couldn't say that I have any "insider tips", exactly, as I was never trying to get my parents to let people come stay with me so much as I was trying to get them to let me go stay with people. I do have a suggestion or two, however. To start with, make special effort to NOT let your boyfriend's trip sound super-duper important; maybe casually compare it to a visit from your best friend. Then go for the unsubtle bribery — "I'll do twice as many chores and not complain" or "What if I promise to get ALL of my homework done before he comes?" Or you could always tell them that the alternative is the two of you running away to Antigua together to have lots of sex and babies and that you'd never, ever come back. As a last resort, of course. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What in your life are you the most thankful for? /May** Dear May, My friends and family. Mostly James. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am suffering from quite serious anger management problems and my therapist has suggested I take up some sort of a hobby to release steam. My first try was fencing -- obviously did not well. Next I tried painting, which seems harmless enough, but I ended up stabbing the guy next to me in the eye with a paintbrush! Do you know of any completely safe and non-dangerous hobbies? /Grumpy** Dear Grumpy, Oh, my. I would suggest shopping or window-shopping, but given how violent I've known people to become over certain merchandise — I, myself, can get rather homicidal if someone gets between me and something I particularly want, like certain grocery items that shall remain nameless — that's probably not a good idea. Maybe yoga? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Ever since my daughter was quite young I have been planning for her to marry my cousin's son. My cousin agrees with me and thinks it's a wonderful match, and her son is quite fond of the idea as well, but my daughter is being impossible about it! Maybe it's just her age -- she's 14 -- but she's giving me a world of trouble. Do you have any suggestions on how to talk to her and make her see my side of the story? /Martha** Dear Martha, Drop the idea until she's older. Like, at least 18, older. Expecting anything else before that is just ridiculous and you ought to be ashamed of yourself — and your cousin, as well. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm trying to lose weight. Do you have any suggestions for snacks that are low on calories and yet filling? (Preferably ones that don't taste like cardboard!) /Chunky** Dear Chunky, Low on calories AND filling? Isn't that, y'know, a contradiction of terms? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you believe in reincarnation! My brother passed away a while ago and now I'm convinced he's come back as my family's pet rabbit. My parents claim I'm in a state of shock and want me to start having therapy, but I'm sure I'm correct! How can I make them see my brother's spirit is really inside Wiggle-Ears now? /Hailey** Dear Hailey, ... Not that I'm a medium or anything, but I'm getting the feeling that your brother would probably not appreciate that you think a bunny is like him. _I_ certainly wouldn't. Maybe that's just me, though. My recommendation is that you go ahead and start the therapy that your parents want (if only to appease them; they've obviously been through quite a lot), at least until you can, er, convince them. As to how to do that... I'm afraid you're on your own. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Over the Easter holidays, my thirteen year old son nicked whiskey from our kitchen and went out with his friends and got really drunk. We found him passed out in a ditch two blocks from our house, covered in his own sick, at 3 am. His mother and I are really at a loss of what to do about this -- we did ground him for the remainder of the holidays, but what do I do long-term to make sure it doesn't happen again? /Delinquent's Father** Dear Delinquent Dad, Talk with him. Not at him, or to him (especially not _down_ to him), but with him. Like, a real conversation about the whys of what he did and the why nots of doing it again, etc., etc. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 1 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Whenever my husband is ill, even if it's only with the tiniest of colds, he makes it sound as though he is on the brink of death and expects me to nurse him back to help and be at his side 24/7 — even if I am a lot sicker than he is! How can I make him see a runny nose won't kill him? He's worse than our three-year old! /Nurse Wife** Dear Nurse, Why, how selfish of him! Absolutely horrid! You poor thing! I suppose just pointing out that such a thing has never done him in before won't help? If not, why don't you try just ignoring him (affectionately) when you know he doesn't actually _need_ anything else? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I want to pierce my ears but my mum won't let me so I'm going to do it myself. I have two questions: how do you stop the needle from jabbing you in the head once it's through the ear, and how do I hide my earrings from my mum all summer? /Alice** Dear Alice, Hold your thestrals there, little lady. Piercing your ears is _not_ something you should be attempting by yourself, unsupervised — especially if you clearly don't know what you're doing. You'd be much better off sneaking out to get it done professionally. And at least then, if your mum does find out, you can always defend yourself by saying that she should be grateful you weren't _completely_ irresponsible about it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I want to learn how to whistle but it's not going very well. Can you whistle? Do you have any tips and hints on how to learn? /Birdy** Dear Bird, Whistling is easy. You just put your lips together and blow. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, One of my friends is constantly taking credit for everything I do! Whenever we work together in Potions for example he will claim he did all the work when he was really just sitting there giving himself a manicure while I did all the hard work! This is driving me bonkers — how can I get him to stop it? /Andrew** Dear Andrew, Oooh, that's bad. Start small; snidely ask him if he does his nails like that all the time because his boyfriend likes it. If that doesn't work, move up to the mean stuff, like intentionally messing up your work and, before he can notice or the professor can say anything, humbly announce that he did everything. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently met a woman who I think might well be the love of my life. However, there is one little problem: she's Chinese and speaks no English whatsoever, and, well, my Mandarin is a bit rusty. Am I mad to even consider this? So far we've had a translator with us at all of our dates (four so far) but that's not really very romantic! How should I proceed? /Stumped** Dear Stumped, What an... interesting problem you have. I suggest you work on improving your Mandarin, and try teaching her some English, of course. Just because you can't actually communicate with each other without outside help yet doesn't mean you might not be perfect for each other. Defeat that language barrier! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think there is something seriously wrong with me! I've recently started going out with this lovely woman and the other day she invited me in for the first time, for, well, you know. I was really chuffed so imagine how moritifed I was when I couldn't go through with it — not because I didn't want to, but because my body refused to cooperate! HELP! Am I dying? What's going on? This has never happened to me before!! /Eunuch?** Dear Euny, Relax! You're not dying! As for what IS going on, well... That particular problem must not be _too_ uncommon, because there are lots of potions for it, or so I've been told. Regardless, it's nothing to be ashamed of! And I'm sure, if she really likes you, your lovely woman is willing to be understanding about it. Good luck! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could add a new subject to be taught at Hogwarts, what would it be and why? And who would teach it? /Alma M.** Dear Mater, Well, during my time at Hogwarts, I always really — and I mean really, really, _really_ — wished there'd been a class on duelling. As for who I'd like to have teach it... probably Professor Dumbledore. That would be _wicked_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a boyfriend but I'm in love with someone else. Nothing is going to happen because he doesn't like me that way and anyway I would never cheat, so this is okay, right? I really don't want to be single again and my boyfriend would be so sad if I broke up with him! /Torn** Dear Torn, My, my, we _are_ two-faced, aren't we? No, I don't particularly think your situation is 'okay', just because you'd never cheat. After all, you don't actually have to _do_ anything to be unfaithful to your boyfriend — and anyway, don't you think he deserves more than to be in a relationship with someone who cares more deeply for another man? If you were being honest with him about your feelings — which, in any _good_ relationship, you should be — I'm sure that would make him just as sad as if you went ahead and broke up with him. Go on; suck it up and do the right thing. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What makes you fall in love with someone? /Consuella** Dear Consuella, Do you mean what makes _me_ , specifically, fall in love with someone, or what makes a person, in general, fall in love with someone? I wouldn't be able to say for certain about the latter, as I think it varies from individual to individual. I mean, often it can be a person's character and their personality, maybe a particular trait like loyalty or courage, that draws someone else in — then again, it could also be the colour of their eyes or the way their hair looks right after they wake up. Or maybe even just the way they laugh. As for the other — what _I_ fall in love with — well... it was everything. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What spell would you find it the hardest to live without, if you had to live like a Muggle for a week? /Ellie** Dear Ellie, After long hard thought, I've decided that I'd find it most difficult to live without the Summoning Charm, because then I'd have to go around fetching things for myself. Apparition comes a close second, of course, but loses thanks to the existence of Mathilda Ermyntrude. (The Scouring Charm loses because of the existence of James. The Stunning Spell loses because of frying pans, and Muggle cricket bats and golf clubs.) Sirius PS: This was all assuming that there's no, you know, _war_ , or anything.  
---  
  
* * *

**_Blackpool, England  
1 June 1984  
11.02 pm_ **

 

"I'm almost empty," Sirius complains, leaning a little more toward James and speaking loudly to be heard over the music of the club. He nods toward James's drink. "How's yours?"

"Disgusting," James replies, taking a large sip through his violently pink straw anyway. "Tastes like shampoo."

Sirius looks amused. "Then why are you drinking it?"

"I bought it, didn't I?"

"Well, technically, _I_ —"

Grinning, James leans over and drains the last remnants of Sirius's (non-disgusting, non-shampooey) drink instead.

"Hey!" protests Sirius, plaintively. "I wanted that!"

"So did I!"

"It was _mine_!" argues Sirius, but he is grinning.

Matching his grin, James says, "Maybe I'll make it up to you."

Sirius lifts one brow. "Yeah?" He glances around the club — pausing slightly when his eye catches something he seems to find interesting — and then back to James. "How?"

"Well... I could buy you a new one?"

"You could," agrees Sirius, and he's glancing across the club again. "Are you going to?"

"No."

"That's very rude of you." Sirius has a very amused expression on his face, though it doesn't seem to be entirely because of James. "I'm considering being devastated."

James replies by placing his hand on Sirius's thigh and squeezing slightly.

"... not _too_ devastated, though," adds Sirius, with a pleased little hum.

"Uh-huh."

"It's hard to be devastated when you're practically molesting me in public," Sirius says judiciously.

"This isn't in public," James says, with something rather resembling a leer. "It's under the table; no one can see."

"Obviously," Sirius agrees, with a nod and a smirk. "Or that fellow by the bar wouldn't still be checking you out."

James blinks, then chuckles. "What're you on about?"

Still smirking, Sirius jerks his head slightly toward the end of the bar nearest them, where, lounging back against it, a tallish redhead is a staring rather obviously in their direction.

"... he is not checking me out."

"Oh, really?" laughs Sirius, raising his eyebrows. "What's he doing, then?"

James looks vaguely uncomfortable. "Leaning?"

"While staring at you?"

"Please! If he's staring at anyone, it's you."

"Nope, not me!" replies Sirius, shaking his head. "I made eye-contact just now and he didn't react at all!"

James does not look convinced.

" _And_ ," adds Sirius, "I bet if I got up, he'd still be staring."

"Why on earth would he be staring at _me_ with y—"

" _I'd_ be staring at you," Sirius points out, glancing toward the bar again — then immediately glancing away, smothering another smirk. "Uh-oh. I think we're about to see whether I'm right."

"What?" James says, gaze snapping up towards the man at the bar.

"He's coming over," Sirius announces, rather unnecessarily, since the man is obviously making his way across the room, still staring toward them.

"Shit."

Sirius looks like he wants to snicker, but he doesn't. "This should be interesting," he hisses instead.

James tries to look aloof.

" _Really_ interesting," Sirius adds, even more quietly, as the redhead has almost reached their table.

"Quick, pretend we're talking!" James says under his breath.

Sirius is definitely amused, but quickly raises his voice and, eyes on James, says, " — and _that's_ when he fell down the stairs, all six flights, and landed on the suit of armour!"

James, opening his mouth to reply, makes a confused face instead as what Sirius is saying registers in his brain. 

"I _told_ him he shouldn't have eaten the banana," Sirius adds mournfully, just as the redhead clears his throat.

Looking rather pained, James looks up at him.

The redhead's cheeks turn red to match his hair, and he clears his throat again. "Hullo," he says, just loud enough to be heard over the music, staring at James and not even glancing over at Sirius.

"Er. Hi."

"I'm Eddie," the redhead declares. He pauses to smile widely.

Looking more awkward then ever, James mumbles his name in reply as he removes his hand from Sirius's leg. Suddenly not looking amused at all, except for how his eyes are still twinkling slightly, Sirius loudly announces his name, too.

Eddie's eyes flick in his direction. Briefly. "I couldn't help but notice, James," he says, without acknowledging Sirius's interjection, "that you don't seem to like your drink very much."

"I guess not," James replies, crossing his arms.

Eddie smiles again. "I was hoping you'd let me buy you another."

"Oh." Blushing slightly and looking more awkward than ever, James squirms a little. "I'm sorry, but I'm with him." He nods towards Sirius.

Sirius gives Eddie his second-best smile.

After several seconds where he looks rather dazed, Eddie blushes again, and this time his entire face goes scarlet. " _Oh_ ," he says lamely, unconsciously echoing James. "I see. Right."

"But, er, thank you," James manages.

Eddie is now staring at _Sirius_. "Er... you're welcome," he mumbles, wide-eyed.

"I don't need a drink, either," Sirius says. Then he leans over and drapes his arm around James's shoulders, smiling the whole time. James turns to face him, looking vaguely amused.

Eddie manages to tear his eyes away from that smile of Sirius's, to look at James again, his gaze darting between the two men for a moment. His shoulders slump and he seems to deflate a bit. "I'll just... be going then."

"Bye," replies Sirius, waving the fingers of the arm around James's neck in a sort of negligent wave. "And thanks!"

"Thanks," James echoes, as Eddie wanders back to the bar.

Sirius turns his smile to James. "Poor bloke."

"Poor bloke?" James repeats, raising his eyebrows. "Poor _me_!"

"What do you mean, poor you?" Sirius retorts, chuckling. "At least he was cute!"

"Was he?"

Sirius arches a brow. "You didn't think so?"

James shrugs.

"Well, _I_ thought he was," mutters Sirius, with a fresh smirk. "That hair!"

James blinks. "You have a thing for redheads?"

"Like Lils?" snickers Sirius, then shakes his head. "No, not the colour."

"What, then?"

"It was all messy," explains Sirius, his voice dropping slightly on the last word.

"... you're a very strange man, you know that?" James asks, rather amused.

"I have that suspicion, yes."

Shaking his head, James asks, "So that's what you base your level of attraction on, then?"

"Don't be silly!"

"It _would_ explain a lot..."

"James!" Sirius rolls his eyes. Then, changing the subject, he demands, "So you're telling me that you didn't think he was cute at _all_?"

"I didn't say that," James protests rather lamely. "I said I didn't notice."

Confused, Sirius frowns. "How can you not notice?"

"I just don't."

" _How_?"

"What do you mean, how?" James asks, a bit shortly perhaps. "I just don't notice!"

"All right, all right!" Sirius raises his hands defensively, without removing his arm from James's shoulders. "But you do agree that he was cute, right?"

"How would I know if I didn't notice?!"

"I don't know!" protests Sirius. "I don't even know how you could _not_ notice!"

Sighing, James looks over to where Eddie is standing. "I suppose he's not bad."

Sirius lets out a tiny, exasperated little sigh. "Not bad. Right, and what would _you_ consider cute?"

"... kittens?"

"James!"

" _What?_ " Noting his look, James sighs. "You know the answer to that question. Even if 'cute' isn't the word I'd use."

Grinning, Sirius cocks his head to the side. "What word _would_ you use, then?"

"Devilishly attractive?"

Sirius snorts. "Am I, really?"

"Damn straight you are," James says, shuffling a little closer to Sirius.

"... _Devilishly_?" presses Sirius, leaning his head closer to James's, so his breath brushes the other man's ear. His grin has become rather... wicked.

"Uh-huh."

"Mmm." Sirius leans even closer. His lips graze James's ear. "So, what if Eddie had been a woman, then?"

"Then you'd still have been devilishly attractive, of course."

Sirius chuckles. "Well, of course! But would you have noticed that he was cute?"

"She," James corrects. "Probably not."

Sirius pulls back abruptly, looking faintly surprised.

"... what?"

"And you think _I'm_ a very strange man!"

"What's strange about that?" James asks, raising both eyebrows.

"Everything!" exclaims Sirius. "How can you not notice when someone is attractive?"

"Because I'm here with you!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sirius looks confused. "Because I know you're not saying that I'm so devilishly attractive that I distract you from everyone else."

"I'm _saying_ ," James stresses, "that I'm here with you, and you're — so much more than any of them, and I —" He trails off.

Sirius stares at him for a moment. Then he reaches up and cups James's cheek in his hand. "I would kiss you for that, only I don't think I'd want to stop," he says, softly. "Thank you."

James looks vaguely embarrassed. "You're welcome."

Seeing this, Sirius drops his hand. "On the other hand," he says in a louder, slightly teasing voice, "it does make me feel rather bad."

"Does it really."

"Since I still notice attractiveness," Sirius explains, with a quick grin.

James chuckles. "That's all right. Since I'm not devilishly attractive."

Snickering, Sirius rolls his eyes. "I said I noticed, not that I ever think anyone looks better."

"Maybe you should get your eyes checked."

"Or maybe," suggests Sirius, and his voice is soft again, "I'm just biased."

"Blind, biased..." James says with a hint of a smile.

Sirius is also smiling slightly. "They're not the same thing at all, you know."

"Close enough."

"If I were in love with _Remus_ instead of you, maybe," scoffs Sirius.

James is grinning by now. "Don't be so mean."

"Fortunately," Sirius goes on, ignoring James's admonishment, " _he_ is not the one who caught my oh-so-discerning attention." A pause. "Though to be fair, I'm not sure how much of it was you and how much it was the uniform, at the beginning."

".... the _uniform_?" James asks, sounding sincerely surprised. "What uniform?"

"Your Quidditch uniform," replies Sirius, his lips quirking in a fond, rather nostalgic smile. "All that scarlet. Mm. _Very_ eye-catching."

James blinks. "Sirius, I was twelve years old when I first wore that."

Sirius shakes his head. "No. No, you weren't," he counters. "Until you were fifteen, _it_ wore _you_."

" _Hey!_ "

"But after that," Sirius adds quickly, "after that— Merlin, did you wear it well."

"You actually paid attention to how I looked in my _Quidditch uniform_?" James asks, sounding half amused, half alarmed.

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "... would have preferred I pay attention to how you looked _not_ in your Quidditch uniform?"

It's hard to tell in the dark of the club, but James's cheeks go rather red. "Not really, I was a string bean back then."

"I don't know, I thought you looked bloody go—"

"Si!"

Sirius is smirking. "I liked you parading around the dorm in your skivvies?" he tries.

"Even during that period in... sixth year, was it, when you would not shut up about Alessandra Watkins?" James counters.

Sirius laughs. "Oh, please, love! Are you really this blind?"

"You even landed us both in detention once when you wouldn't shut up about her arse during Transfiguration class!"

"James," interjects Sirius, obviously still amused.

"What?"

"First of all, I was still in denial then."

James just looks at him.

"Besides." Sirius gives a tiny shrug. "She was a skinny brunette and she had hazel eyes."

"I..."

"...am the blind one here," Sirius finishes for him, grinning teasingly.

James elbows him in the ribs. "I can't believe my best mate was having dirty thoughts about me, more like." He slides even closer. "I think I like it."

"Tart," accuses Sirius, his grin turning into a smirk. His arm around James tightens, and his leans back toward James's neck. "And there have been _lots_ of dirty thoughts about you."

"Yeah?"

"Especially when you'd do cruel, cruel things like forget your towel when you went to shower."

James chuckles. "Cruel, huh?"

"You'd come back naked and with your hair dripping wet!"

"Showers usually do that to you." James's hand is back on Sirius's thigh.

"Yeah, but I _love_ what showers do to _you_ ," Sirius reminds James, lips against his ear.

"What, wet and naked?"

"Yes..."

James bites his lip. "Um."

"D'you realise how... _hard_... it used to be?" asks Sirius, his voice rather husky. "Not grabbing you, when you'd do that?"

" _Literally_ hard?" James quips, grinning slightly again.

"Yeah," says Sirius, more breath than actual word.

"Yeah?"

"I still can't believe you never noticed."

"I, er. I did, once."

Sirius shifts to catch James's earlobe with his teeth. "Really?" His tone is a cross between surprised and indifferent. 

"Mm."

"You never said anything..."

"Gee, I wonder why," James says with a small chuckle. "'Sides, how was I to know you were perving over _me_?"

"What did you _think_ I was perving over?" demands Sirius, his lips now on James's neck.

"I dunno," James breathes, tilting his head back to give Sirius better leverage. "We did have all those, er, magazines with the lovely articles in them up in the dorm..."

"And you didn't stop to consider the fact I was most likely staring at _you_?"

"No."

" _Ridiculous_ ," whispers Sirius, into James's neck.

" _Now_ I know," James replies, ending on a half-sigh, half-moan.

Sirius shifts, so that the arm around James's shoulders is now around his back, and his other hand is lightly gripping the front of James's shirt. "I should hope so."

"Not that thick."

"No?" Sirius's hand moves from James's shirt to his stomach.

"You _are_ practically molesting me in public..."

"Usually a bit of a tip off," Sirius agrees, his hand going to James's crotch.

"Fuck," James hisses. "Si —"

"Want to get out of here?" Sirius questions gruffly, while stroking James through his trousers. "'Cause I do..."

"We might not have a choice if you keep doing that," James manages to get out. "They'll chuck us out for indecent behaviour. Shit, don't stop —"

"C'mon," growls Sirius, dropping his hands from James and getting to his feet.

Grabbing onto Sirius's hand, James follows.

Ignoring the few odd looks they're getting, Sirius half-drags James out of the club and down the street, toward the alley where his bike is parked.

"... you're not planning on getting us home on that thing, are you?"

"No," replies Sirius, turning to grab James's other hand and tug him forward against his chest. "Too drunk. But it's dark here."

"It was dark in there, too," James protests rather half-heartedly. He's staring at Sirius's lips.

Letting go of one hand, Sirius wraps an arm around James's waist and pulls him ever closer. He leans in, his mouth hovering over James's. "There are no people here."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well," James says with half a grin. "Blackpool _is_ famous for that sort of thing, isn't it?"

In answer, Sirius kisses him. Hands clutching at Sirius's hair, James pulls him closer and steps backwards until his back is against the (somewhat grubby) brick wall on one side of the alley.

Sirius moans quietly. He grinds his hips forward, pushing James more firmly against the wall. Both of James's hands move down Sirius's back, settling firmly on his arse, fingers digging in.

Sirius moans again. He's moved his arm from behind James's back, resting it on the wall by James's shoulder. His other hand is in James's hair.

Breaking the kiss rather abrubtly, James transfers his lips to Sirius's neck.

"Shiiit," Sirius hisses, tilting his head back.

A rather loud group of people walk past the alley opening, apparently singing a song about the merits of tequila. James ignores them. So does Sirius, pushing his hips forward again and tightening his fingers in James's hair.

"We probably shouldn't do this here," James murmurs against his skin.

"Does that mean you're stopping?" growls Sirius. He lets go of James's hair and moves so that arm is resting against the wall, too.

James's reply is to nibble on Sirius's earlobe.

"...guess not."

"D'you want me to?"

A deep chuckle escapes Sirius. "What do _you_ think?" and he jerks his hips forward to emphasis his words.

"I _think_ ," James replies, hands tightening on Sirius's buttocks in response, "that maybe you'd like me to..." He trails off.

Sirius groans. "To what?" he asks hoarsely.

"To push _you_ against this wall..."

"Shit," Sirius gasps, and his head tips forward again, forehead resting against the brick wall.

"... and drop down on my knees..."

"Oh, _shit_ ," Sirius repeats, and his hips jerk rather desperately.

James smirks. "Would you like that?"

"Maybe," replies Sirius, his hips moving again.

"Only maybe?"

"Maybe... definitely."

His smirk widening, James moves his hands to Sirius's hips.

"Would you _do_ that?" asks Sirius, on a low moan.

"Wanna find out?"

Moving his hands to James's shoulders, Sirius quickly pulls him away from the wall and spins them around, switching their positions. "Yes," he breathes.

Looking positively wicked, James starts to sink onto his knees. Halfway there he pauses, glancing down onto the ground. A moment later he shrugs off his jacket, placing it on the alley floor before kneeling on top of it.

"That's gonna be harder to clean than your jeans," Sirius points out, a trace of amusement under all the lust.

James is too busy undoing Sirius's fly to respond.

Sirius's fingers tighten on James's shoulders.

Dark as it is, James keeps his eyes on Sirius's face as he slides the zipper down.

Sirius hisses, barely louder than the sound of the zipper. "James..."

"Mm?"

In reply, Sirius just groans and tilts his hips forward eagerly.

James's eyes remain on Sirius's face as he pulls the other man's cock out.

"Shit, are you really gonna—"

Instead of answering, James leans in and closes the remaining few inches between his mouth and Sirius's cock. Sirius's words die in a strangled moan.

James has hardly gotten to work when footsteps fall outside the alley again. If his complete lack of reaction is anything to go by, Sirius doesn't even notice.

The footsteps pause. "Anyone there?" a gruff voice calls.

James freezes.

Sirius opens his eyes — which he'd only closed a few moments before — and squints toward the mouth of the alley, without letting go of James's shoulders.

"Police!" the voice calls again, as a torch lights up the alley -- fortunately on the other side of the rather large dumpster pushed up against the same wall as Sirius.

"Bugger," mouths Sirius, scowlingly. Obviously reluctant, he pushes at James's shoulders.

Leaning back slightly, James looks up at him. "Oops."

"Oops?" repeats Sirius in a low hiss, rather sarcastically.

Busying himself with tucking Sirius in, James asks, "Can you Apparate, y'think? Only I left the cloak at home."

"Yeah, I can," replies Sirius, under cover of the pleaseman yelling again. "But Mathilda—"

"Screw Mathilda!"

Sirius can't resist a snicker. "That would hurt."

James gets back on his feet. "Seriously, Si, I don't wanna spend the night in some skeezy Muggle cell —"

"Even if I'm with you?" interrupts Sirius, giving his eyebrows a suggestive wiggle.

"Come _on_!"

"All right, fine, c'mere," says Sirius, grumbling a little. The hands on James's shoulders slip down his back as Sirius wraps his arms around him. "Home, then, you say?"

"Bedroom, I say."

Sirius grins. "Pass me my wand, would you?"

Pulling Sirius's wand out of his back pocket, James hands it to him just as the policeman enters the alley.

"Want to say hi?" Sirius whispers wickedly, right before he starts to turn.

"Not really," James says, looking over his shoulder.

Sirius snickers as he Disapparates.


	38. 4–10 June 1984

**Monday, 4 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's all right for a man to wear cologne, or is it sort of a pansy thing to do? Do you wear cologne? /Smelly** Dear Smelly, What, you think only pansies should smell nice? What lily — er, silly — nonsense. Of course it's all right. At least, I should hope it is, as I wear it on a fairly regular basis. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's possible to be in love with more than one person at a time? I have found myself with deep feelings for two very different men, and while the feelings are somewhat different, they're still of the romantic sort and equally serious, and I don't know how I'd even begin to choose between the two. Do you have any advice? /Katherine** Dear Katherine, Start a harem and keep them both? No, really, that's actually my best advice. How am _I_ supposed to tell _you_ which one to chose, when you've just admitted that you have deep feelings for both of them? It's not like I could tell you to dump the least attractive one and focus on the hunkiest. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm in Ravenclaw and my brother is in Gryffindor, and now that we're approaching the end of term and the House Cup and all of that, he's stopped talking to me! I highly suspect this has to do with my house leading over his. He's never been like this before, but we've also never beaten them before. How can I make him see he's being ridiculous and that family is more important than which house you're in? /Sad eagle** Dear Eagle, Start doing things to lose yourself house points, while giving him very significant looks. Or just corner him in the halls someday and beat him upside the head with the common sense stick a few times. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever dated interracially? If not, would you? /Mary** Dear Mary, No, I haven't, and I can't imagine I would — though, that isn't because I'm opposed to it. I'm not, at all. I'm just happy with my life how it is. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What's the most romantic (real-life) story you've ever heard? Any of your friends living a happily-ever-after fairytale? /Sappy** Dear Sappy, Well, I _do_ have this... friend, who has been absolutely in love with his other friend for a very, very long time — since they were at school together, in fact — and the two of them just hooked up not that long ago. They may not qualify as happily-ever-after quite yet, but they are really, really happy together, and it's just absolutely wonderful to see my friend finally get his feelings returned. I personally think that's... kind of unspeakably romantic. And wonderful. And... yeah. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why do boys fart more than girls do? /P** Dear P, I don't think they actually do, just that most of them don't try as hard to hide it as girls generally do. Well, and they eat more beans. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do Muggle tellyfones work? /Confused** Dear Confused, There are little telepathic men inside the handset who relay your message to the little telepathic men in the handset on the other end, who then mimic your voice when they repeat it. That's why there's "telly" in the name! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My sister is going to go to Hogwarts this year and I will really miss her!! I can't go for another two years, what should I do? /Little sister aged 9** Dear Little sis, Write lots and lots of letters. And count the days until the winter hols. And maybe try to post yourself to her — but make sure to poke holes in the box and use several owls. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I can't seem to land a job! I have great marks from school, and I've been to loads of interviews, but once there it all goes down the drain! I just get so nervous that I stammer and stutter like and idiot; it's no wonder no one will hire me, I wouldn't either! How can stop fretting so that I can show my potential bosses that I could be a valuable addition to their workplace? /Unhireable** Dear Unhireable, Dutch courage! Take a swig or two of Firewhiskey before you go in, to settle those nerves of yours. (Or use vodka, if you prefer Russian courage.) Not too much, though, or they'll think you're a lush, and that'd probably be worse. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend is on a diet despite being really skinny already. I'm worried she has an eating disorder. How can I tell? /Worried best mate** Dear Worried, I'm exactly sure, not having any experience in this area, myself. Probably the best way would be to figure out if she thinks she's fat or actually _needs_ the diet. Though that could just be a sign that she has horrid self-image, it should give you a clue. Then again, it could just be that your friend isn't particularly fond of food! Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
5 June 1984  
7.02 pm** _

 

"Smells delicious, love," Sirius announces appreciatively, looking hungrily at the food James has just placed on the table. "Looks delicious, too."

"Well, you know," James replies as he sets down the gravy boat next to the steak, "I've got to do _something_ with all my extra time..." He grins at Sirius as he sits down opposite him. 

Sirius laughs. "Making me steak isn't exactly what I'd _prefer_ you do with all that time, but it _is_ an acceptable substitute..."

"Oh, now you're complaining about the food?" James asks, still grinning widely. "What would you rather have me do, pray tell?"

"Don't ask me that," retorts Sirius, also grinning. "You know very well what I mean, but talking about it would distract me and I want to actually _eat_ this—"

The rest of his sentence is drowned in repeated proclamations of "Warning! Visitor! Warning!" from the sitting room.

Sirius jumps slightly. "Wha?"

"We _really_ need to adjust the volume on that thing," James mutters as he stands up, getting his wand out. "Hello?"

"James?" comes a voice from the living room, sounding rather... panicked.

"Remus?"

"James," repeats Remus, in exactly the same tone, and the next moment he bursts into the kitchen. James blinks at him. Remus's eyes are wild and his face is very pale. He shakily runs both hands through his hair, staring at James and barely seeming to notice Sirius, sitting at the table. "Oh, God," he blurts.

Casting one quick, worried glance at Sirius, James walks over to him. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to do!" exclaims Remus, now wringing his hands anxiously.

Looking worried, Sirius stands as well. "What are you talking about?"

"Sit down before you fall down," James says, kicking out a chair for him. "Are you all right? Is Evans all right?"

Somewhat heavily, Remus sits. "I'm fine," he mumbles. He runs his hands through his hair again. "Lily is— she might be— pregnant!!"

Sirius's worried expression transforms almost immediately into something much closer to annoyance.

"She... what?" says James.

"She thinks she's pregnant!" wails Remus, looking distraught. "PREGNANT!"

"You've interrupted our dinner because you knocked up your girlfriend?" demands Sirius, admittedly rather incredulously, yet also visibly irritated.

"Sirius," James scolds, not taking his eyes off Remus. "Why are you _here_ , Remus?"

Remus gives the other two men a rather deranged look. "What am I going to do?!"

"Go home and show her some support!" James exclaims.

"Support?" moans Remus. "Support?! But— but this is a _disaster_!"

James looks over at Sirius, who by this point is glaring furiously at Remus.

"This is AWFUL!" wails the werewolf.

"You know," James says slowly, "I've heard that impending fatherhood is usually a cause for joy —"

"Joy?!" repeats Remus, gaping at James. "Not _joy_!!"

"Remus Lupin, there seems to be an idiot in my kitchen keeping me from my dinner," growls Sirius angrily. "Could you please have him explain himself so he can get out and I can _eat_?"

Remus turns to gape at Sirius, instead. "I'm having a crisis and you're worried about _food_?"

"You're not having a crisis, you're being an idiot," retorts Sirius.

"Remus, _calm down_ ," James says, ignoring Sirius. "What happened, exactly?"

Remus dithers for a moment or two. "I don't— I can't understand how this could have happened!"

"Sex?" offers Sirius dryly.

"Seriously, mate," James adds. "Surely your parents told you about the birds and the bees and the tiny werewolf cubs —"

Remus makes a pained noise, rather similar to a whimper, and holds up his hands to stop James. "No, no, not _that_ , I didn't mean _that_!"

James gives him a rather expectant look.

"Only I didn't see this coming!" Remus explains, still a bit on the wail-y side. "She just announces out of nowhere that she's late—"

"When was this, exactly?" James interrupts,

"Er." Remus pauses, rather flustered. "Right before I came here?"

"Right before you —"

Looking horrified, Sirius demands, "Please tell me you didn't _really_ turn tail and run like I think you just said you did."

Remus turns rather red. "Er..."

Sirius is back on his feet, drawing his wand and pointing it at his friend. "Remus John Lupin, you are an absolute bloody _idi_ —"

"What on earth made you _run away_?" James interrupts, reaching out and lowering Sirius's wand. 

"She can't have a baby!" exclaims Remus, only cowering _slightly_. "I can't... I can't be a _father_!"

"Why the hell not?!"

Waving his arms around in attempt to illustrate a point which he doesn't seem articulate enough to make, Remus stammers, "I can't— I wouldn't— It would—"

"You know, I'm surprised you're even _able_ to knock someone up," James interjects, sounding rather angry by now, "with your complete lack of balls!"

While Remus trails off and looks rather startled, Sirius raises his wand again. "Can I hex him now?" he growls at James.

"No," James says, without much conviction. 

"You sure?" presses Sirius, still quite growl-y.

Remus has gone from startled to alarmed. "Oi," he protests weakly. "Mates, what—"

"Go home," James snaps, "and take some god damn responsibility!"

Remus just blinks at him, fish-faced.

"Honestly, Lupin," Sirius adds angrily, "you _seriously_ need to _get over it_ , already."

"You love her, right?"

Mouth still partially agape, Remus manages to nod.

"And you want to be with her?" James continues, rather glaring by now.

Barely hesitating, Remus nods again.

"And do you have any doubts she'll make a great mother?"

Remus shakes his head, quickly, without any hesitation whatsoever. "Of course not," he mutters.

"So what the hell are you getting your pants in a twist over?" James asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Remus looks from James to Sirius and back. His face turning rather red, he gulps loudly, and mumbles something.

"What, you suddenly can't speak?" mocks Sirius. "People who interrupt my steak dinner in a panic shouldn't do that until AFTER they've explained themselves." A pause. "Or I've hexed them."

"Sirius," James says again. Then, in a completely different tone of voice, "Remus".

The panic is back in Remus's eyes. He gulps again. Then, suddenly— "What kind of father would I make, James? I'm a fucking _werewolf_!"

Sirius's wand drops, slightly.

"So _what_?" James counters, nearly as loudly. "You _work_ with kids, don't you?"

"That's _different_!" retorts Remus hotly, on his feet.

"How?!"

Remus glares at James."That's— Those kids aren't— How can I be _there_ when I _can't_!?"

"...you're making about as much sense as my steak would, if it could talk," announces Sirius, rather angrily, but his wand is now pointed at the floor.

"Remus," James says again, in a very no-nonsense tone of voice. "That is _one_ night a month."

"But what would we _tell_ them? 'Sorry, little Tommy, daddy's gone off to turn into a hideous monster, he can't read you a bedtime story tonight.' Not what a child wants to hear!"

James just blinks at him.

"Remus," Sirius says, unexpectedly sounding amused, "you're an idiot."

"Yes," agrees James. "You are."

Remus's mouth opens, probably to deny it, but nothing gets a chance to leave it.

"Until they're old enough to understand, you can just tell your kids that you're with us," Sirius continues, smirking a bit now. "You will be, after all."

"Kids don't _care_ about that sort of thing," James adds.

Sirius nods. "Hell, they'll probably think it's cool!"

At this, Remus looks like he can't decide whether to laugh or to cry.

"Come on, Moony," James says, reaching over to pat his arm. "This is huge. Congratulations, mate."

"... I feel like a bubble that's just been popped."

"You look a bit shriveled," Sirius agrees with a small chuckle. His wand back out of sight again, he moves over to urge Remus back into his seat.

"Are you breathing again?" James asks.

Remus nods. "Yes, I—" His voice doesn't so much die as get run over by a herd of rampaging feral hippogryffs. His eyes widen abruptly, and his face goes sheet white.

Sirius eyes him warily. "Remus?"

"This can't be good," James mutters under his breath. "What now?"

"Oh my god, I have to marry her," breathes Remus, in a tone that wouldn't sound out of place coming from the prospective victim of human sacrifice.

"... now you can hex him."

Sirius gapes at Remus, the expression quickly turning into a glare. "Fucking _hell_ , mate."

James covers his eyes with his hands. "Why does she even put up with you?"

"Oh my god," Remus whimpers, his friends' words not registering. "I— I— Oh my _god_!"

"Stop it!" James exclaims, removing his hands from his face in a rather violent manner. "Just — just STOP IT!"

Remus jerks, and blinks owlishly at James. He makes a noise rather similar to a squeak.

"You tell him," Sirius mutters to James, and crosses his arms.

"Yes, you _should_ marry her," James continues, still rather loudly. "But not because you feel you _have_ to!"

"Honestly, she's made it very clear she wants to marry you," James goes on, voice rising even further. "And to be perfectly blunt, you're never gonna be that lucky again, so either act like a man and put a ring on her finger, or let her go so that she can find someone else who's not such a sodding wet blanket!!"

Sirius gives James an approving look. "Oh, very nicely said, love."

"You..." mumbles Remus before lamely trailing off and staring at the other two men with a very dazed look on his face.

"Shut up."

Remus promptly snaps his mouth shut.

James glares at him. "What's it gonna be?"

Still looking dazed, Remus doesn't say anything for a moment, so Sirius raises his eyebrows significantly and very purposefully adds " _Well_?"

Remus clears his throat and looks uneasy. "... do I have to answer that _now_?"

"Well, considering you just _ran away_ from her, I'm not even sure you _have_ a choice anymore —"

James's rant is interrupted by yet another eruption of warnings from the fireplace.

"I wonder who that could be?" wonders Sirius, his tone thick with sudden glee.

Remus pales. Again.

"REMUS LUPIN!"

Lily's voice is quite possibly even louder than the Floo warning system.

"Uh-oh," whispers Remus, his eyes darting desperately around the kitchen.

Sirius smirks. "This should be good."

A second later, Lily storms into the kitchen, her face nearly as red as her hair. 

"Hi, Lils," Sirius greets her, cheerfully, while Remus stares and gets paler.

Lily completely ignores him, instead fixing her boyfriend with a very venomous glare. "You," she says, more of a hiss than a word,"are _such a bloody idiot_.

Remus's face quickly turns red. "Lily," he starts weakly, then pauses, glancing at James. More strongly, he repeats, "Lily, I'm sorry."

"What," Lily says, no indication she's even heard him, "do you think you're playing at?"

Remus takes a couple of tentative steps across the room to her. "I'm sorry. I just panicked for a moment," he says soothingly. "But I've stopped and I'm going to marry you and help you raise our child and—"

"I'M NOT PREGNANT!" Lily shouts, punching his shoulder.

"— everything will be fi—" Remus cuts off abruptly, staring at Lily. "What?"

Sirius rolls his eyes.

"I'm not pregnant, and you're _such_ a bloody _asshole_ ," Lily says, then rounds to look at Sirius. "And _you_!"

While Remus's expression tries to decide if it's relieved or confused, Sirius looks startled. "What did I do?"

"You, and you!" Lily clarifies, glaring at James as well for good measure. "Letting him hide out here —"

"We weren't!" protests Sirius.

Lily blinks, then rounds on Remus again. "Idiot!!"

Remus's expression settles for confused. "Er... oops?"

"Why do you even stick around if you — wait, what did you say?"

"...'oops'?"

Lily shakes her head impatiently. "Did you say you'd —"

"Help you raise the baby?" Remus tries this time, darting a slightly terrified look over Lily's shoulder at his friends.

"Before that."

Remus clears his throat. Twice. Then, in a very small voice, "Marry you?"

Lily blinks, mouth agape. Remus clears his throat again.

"This is the least romantic proposal ever," James mutters to Sirius.

"... in the history of the _universe_ ," Sirius mutters back to James.

Lily blinks again. Then, "You _idiot_!"

"I'm sorry!" exclaims Remus, throwing his hands up. "I thought you'd want—"

"I don't want you to marry me because you feel obliged to!" Lily exclaims, back to shouting. "I want you to marry me because you _want_ to or there's no point!"

Remus opens his mouth to defend himself, then apparently thinks better of it and simply gives her a pleading look.

"I mean," Lily says, suddenly looking close to tears, "maybe it'd be best if we just broke up before I really _do_ get pregnant and you'll be stuck with me forever —"

"Lily!" cries Remus instantly. Suddenly he's right next to her, trying to pull her into his arms. "Don't say things like that!"

Sirius has narrowed his eyes. "If he makes her actually cry..." he mutters to James.

"How can I _not_?"

"Because they're not true!" Remus's voice is rather desperate. "I love you, I really do, I'm just... stupid."

"Understatement of the year," James whispers.

"Right," Lily says, voice rather thick. "You just don't want to marry me."

"I want you to be happy," counters Remus.

Lily shakes her head, leaning heavily against the door. "Don't you want _you_ to be happy, too?"

"You being happy is more important."

Sighing deeply, Lily asks, "Just... do you think you will _ever_ be ready, Remus?"

Remus glances, for a fraction of a second, at James. "Yes," he replies, though with rather transparent conviction.

"Honestly?"

Remus nods. "Honestly." His voice is a little firmer.

"Then I guess I can't really ask for much more," Lily says, still sounding rather miserable. "But if you ever repeat this performance, I _will_ rip your balls off."

"We'll help," Sirius pipes up cheerfully.

"And this situation isn't the least bit awkward," James adds, "so don't worry about us."

Sirius shoots James a look as if to say 'Shut up I was starting to enjoy this.'

Remus blushes. "Er, sorry," he mutters embarrassedly.

Lily reaches out and places a hand on Remus's arm.

"I'm sorry," Remus repeats, this time directed at his girlfriend. "Please forgive me?"

In response, Lily simply steps closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

Resting his cheek on her hair, Remus hugs her back. "Thank you, darling."

"Don't push your luck, baby."

Remus's wince is just barely visible.

"Are you two all right and tight again?" asks Sirius, not unkindly.

"For now," Lily says, then looks up at Remus. "You're lucky I love you so much, you wanker."

"I know." Remus smiles weakly. "Believe me, I know."

"Good." Sirius uncrosses his arms and puts his hands on his hips. "Because this fiasco has stopped being entertaining, and my steak is probably cold by now."

"Besides," James adds, "you might want to reconsider marrying him, you know. I mean, Lily Lupin? That's a terrible name."

"Oi," Remus protests, without much heat.

"Look who's talking," Lily scoffs, stepping back from Remus slightly. "'James Black,' sounds like some bad pimp undercover name."

James's jaw drops slightly. As does Remus's.

"Yeah, well, who says he'd take my name? Sirius Potter sounds _awesome_ ," retorts Sirius, rather smirkily. "So shut it."

James's jaw drops even further.

"Always have an answer, don't you, Sirius."

"Nah, you're just easy, Lils."

"Not _that_ easy," mutters Remus, who still looks shocked by Sirius's previous comment.

"I, er," James says, clearing his throat. "I don't mean to be rude, but I really do think our dinner is stone cold by now."

"Get out, he means."

"You know, Sirius, you really do need to work on your manners," Lily says, taking a step back and grabbing Remus's hand. "Come on, baby."

"Remus has been saying that for years," says Sirius, with an unconcerned shrug. He raises one hand to wave them out of the room. "Go have make up sex or whatever."

"Oh, we will," Lily calls back, leading her boyfriend out of the room. "Enjoy your steak!"

"I mean to," Sirius calls back, glancing at James rather than the table.

* * *

**Wednesday, 6 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have no inspiration when it comes to making dinner! I always end up making my old tired signature dishes and I'm sick and tired of it. Do you have any suggestions on where to find fun and easy recipes? /Bored in the kitchen** Dear Bored, Sure I do: Start asking your friends and relatives for the recipes for THEIR signature dishes. Everyone has those few dishes they know by heart, generally at least one or two of them quite easy, and the chances of theirs being the same as yours are quite slim. Plus, this method is pretty cheap, and doesn't require annoying cookbooks! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a two-year old daughter and my wife and I are thinking about giving her a sibling, but we're not sure. We're both only children so we don't really have any experience -- what are the pros and cons of having siblings, as opposed to being an only child? /Rosie's dad** Dear Rosie, As an older brother with two only children and a younger sister for best friends, one would think I'd be well equipped to give you a balanced answer to this question. Obviously, one would not be reckoning in the fact that neither I nor the younger-sister had/have good relationships with our sibling. On the other hand, both of the only children clearly suffered by having no-one to deflate their egomania (in the one case) or force them to stiffen their spine (in the other). I think, as long as you don't bungle raising them too much, it might be more beneficial to give your daughter a playmate and a friend — one which she'll never be able to escape entirely and who should always be counted on to have her back and to call her on being an idiot — than to let her grow up alone. That's just me, though, and I'm hardly an expert. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Last week I had a dream that my feet were made out of beans, and my boyfriend kept chasing me to eat them. He refused to listen when I told him I needed my feet to walk. What does this dream mean? He doesn't even like beans! /Bean-foot** Dear Bean, I think it means that you shouldn't eat... whatever it was you ate... before going to bed. (Was it beans?) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, One of my closest friends is such an egomaniac. She's always talking about herself and ranting about her (minute) problems, and never asks how I am or what's going on in my life! Is there any way I can get her to realise she's being quite rude, or should I end the friendship? /Alexanda** Dear Alexandra, Adopt all of her mannerisms (but only when you're around her), and when she eventually complains — and she _will_ complain — innocently query "Why can't I act like that? _You_ do!" Make sure you smile innocently, too. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you like to play tricks on people? What is the best prank you've ever pulled? /Mischievous** Dear Mischief-maker, Are you kidding? I used to _love_ it! Unfortunately, looking back on them, most of the pranks I pulled could be considered rather malicious, so I probably shouldn't talk about them here and give people ideas. There WAS this really nice one, though, where I managed to convince the entire school that I was crazy... Sirius PS: ... I can hear you laughing, Prongs and Moony. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, In general, what do men prefer: natural women with little to no makeup, or super-dollied up ones? /Cara** Dear Cara, I think that the male gender, as a whole, tends to prefer their women... well, not necessarily "super-dollied up", but definitely make-uped to hide even the slightest of imperfections. For myself, however, I'm not very fond of make-up. It tastes funny. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What are your opinions on the Ministry? Would you ever work there? /Ceecee** Dear Cc, I don't really have much of an opinion on the Ministry, except that it sounds boring as hell to work for the government, and besides, they have some of THE most RIDICULOUS laws ever. (Like most of their stuff having to do with werewolves. Grrrr...) Which, by the way, would be the only reason I'd ever work there — to get a chance to fix some of those ludicrous regulations. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, One of my closest friends has been in a relationship with the same person for about three years, but is now starting to doubt whether it's what she really wants. I've had a secret crush on her for years — should I tell her this and hope that it factors into her decision, or wait until she's made her mind up about her current situation? /Lovestruck** Dear Lovestruck, Wait until she's made up her mind!! Do _not_ tell her until she's made her decision regarding her current relationship — if you do, you run the risk of her seeing you as a "convenient relationship alternative" (after all, you are a close friend, so obviously she gets along with you) and she might get together with you even though it's not really _you_ she wants, just to not be alone... And in another three years, what's to say it won't be YOU she's wondering if she really wants? Buck up! Be patient! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could go back and live in one historic period, which one would you pick and why? /Herman** Dear Herman, Well, I get to take my wand, right? Cretaceous, here I come! (I want to fight a T-Rex.) Though, really, I wouldn't want to _live_ there, live there... just visit, really... Maybe I could live in Rome, circa AD 40. I always did want to punch Caligula in the face a bit. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My husband and I keep arguing about what's preferrable; being too hot or being too cold. We can't come to an agreement — who's right here, and why? /Sweaty** Dear Sweaty, Asking who's right and who's wrong about a question like that isn't really fair; that's an issue of personal preference. There's going to be a different "right answer" for every individual. Now, I prefer being too hot — mostly because that'll mean I can ditch some amount of my clothing. On the other hand, I know people who prefer being too cold, because there's only so much you can take OFF... well, you can always put more ON! Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 8 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If money wasn't an issue, how many hours a week would you choose to work, and why? /Workaholic** Dear Workaholic, Exactly as many as James does. Well, maybe slightly less, so that I can be home already by the time he gets there. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife is currently pregnant with our first child and it's all very exciting, we're both over the moon etc etc. However she's been feeling quite miserable, and I've been feeling sort of useless! Is there anything I can do to make this easier on her? /Doting daddy** Dear Daddy, Look for any excuse to pamper her. Foot rubs; hot baths; plenty of time to rest when she needs it; lots of reminders that she's beautiful and you love her and think she's amazing, etc., etc. Pickles might also help — I hear pregnant women like those. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you had to give up either cheese or chocolate forever, which one would you choose to keep and why? /Ricardo** Dear Ricardo, I would totally choose to keep chocolate — what a stupid question! Like cheese is that important to my existence. Please. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My brother is dating a woman who's completely wrong for him. She's not evil or anything, just a bit bad-tempered, rude, and quite frankly, way too stupid for him. Is there anything I can do to make him see he deserves better? /Dee** Dear Dee, Um, _tell_ him? Not that she's bad-tempered, rude and way too stupid for him, I mean. That he deserves better. Also, maybe find a suitable replacement and wave her under his nose until he comes to his senses. (It might take him awhile. Men are dense.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My job is so boring that I am about to die! Is there any way of making a day in the office (by yourself) fly by any faster, while still managing to get the job done? /Discontent** Dear Discontent, Drink lots and lots of mochas so you're constantly on a caffeine-and-sugar rush? It's what I would do. Well, that, and promise myself frequent breaks to... daydream. Sirius PS: Not the kiddie kind, with rainbows and ponies and rogues and princesses and things. Well, maybe the rogues... 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is there any spell or potion etc that you've always felt was missing from the Wizarding world? If so, what is it? /Mickey** Dear Mousy, A very good question! There is, in fact, something that I always rather felt we were missing — where's the x-ray vision spell to see people's knickers, I ask you? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My mother remarried last summer and I've always liked her husband (my stepdad) well enough, until now. I was home for the Easter holidays, and on three different occasions he tried to feel me up! Once he put his hand on my thigh while we were having dinner, and twice he slapped my bum. I'm too embarrassed to tell my mum. What should I do? /E., 15** Dear E, Stop being embarrassed. Tell your mum. Right now. No, seriously, I mean _right now_. Put the paper down — do not finish my column, do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred pounds — and tell your mum. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm rather quick at doing my homework, and so I've been feeling kind of bored in the evenings lately as I'm done way before my friends are. I'm thinking about joining a club of somesort. Is there any one in particular you'd recommend? /Celia** Dear Celia, Let me just start off by saying that though I could be rather quick with my homework as well, I never joined any clubs, and still managed to beat down my boredom (most of the time). Of course, you probably wouldn't even consider doing half the things that I used to occupy myself with, so... D'you like chess? A chess club seems fairly interesting and non-exhausting. Does Hogwarts even _have_ a chess club? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm skint and I want to do something fun this summer. Do you know of anything that's free, fun and fabulous? /Eve** Dear Eve, Try a nudist colony? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you reckon being a Prefect is worth it? /Dennis** Dear Dennis, One of my best mates was a Prefect. I had more fun. That should tell you my answer. Sirius   
---


	39. 11–17 June 1984

**Monday, 11 June 1984**

* * *

_Dear Readers: Mr Black was recently fortunate enough to have been granted a promotion within our Sports department. This new position, however, comes with a number of added responsibilities and so — unfortunately — until such time as we're certain he can handle them all, he has agreed to reduce the size of this column. As of today, therefore, it will be returning to the original five letters per day, and will continue thus for the foreseeable future. D. Dumpling, Evening Prophet Executive Editor_

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I love my husband very much, but he's always putting his friends before me. If he has a choice between spending time with me and doing something with his mates, he always picks them. A while ago my mother agreed to babysit for a whole weekend, and we made plans and everything -- and then he went to Paris with his best mate on a whim! How can I make him see this is really hurting me? /Second choice** Dear Second, Make plans with him, then go to Paris with YOUR best mates on a whim. Or maybe get the drop on him, stun him, gag him and tie him to a chair, then wake him up and roar at him Howler-fashion until he gets the point. I recommend Paris — fabulous shopping, you know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Sorry to bother you at work, but I need to talk to you, and your fireplace keeps spitting me out! There's this party I need to go to next week and I can't find anyone I want to take and I HAVE to take someone or I will never hear the end of it from my mother and my aunt will make fun of me until next Christmas, and my arse is all bruised from your Floo rejection so you owe me!! Please get that fixed and get back to me, will you? ASAP, if you please! Lots of love (but only if you get it sorted), Ivy** Dear Ivy, Don't worry about it, dear, EVERYONE bothers me at work. But please, calm down! I'll pop over after work tomorrow and we'll see about that problem. Sirius PS: I'll make James fix the Floo, too — can't think why I haven't already... 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's possible to be friends with someone you don't share any common interests with? Why, or why not? /Pondering** Dear Pondering, I suppose it IS — theoretically you could be friends with your worst enemy if you tried hard enough, though I don't see why you'd WANT to — but what on earth would you _talk_ about, if you don't have any interests in common? Quite silly, if you ask me. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm really into gardening. Flowers, and stuff. Does this mean I'm gay? (My wife might find that upsetting, so I'm trying to keep her from seeing the garden, but I'm running out of excuses why she shouldn't go out there. Have you got any of those, while I'm at it?) /Worried** Dear Worried, No, it doesn't mean you're gay. It just means you like pretty things. (Your wife should like that one.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am starting Hogwarts this autumn and my dad has promised I will get to bring a pet. Which one do you think I should choose and why? /Alan** Dear Alan, An owl, naturally. It's much more useful than all the others! Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

_**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
11 June 1984  
9.48 pm** _

 

"... so, that'll definitely go on the grocery list," Sirius is saying, over the soft music coming from the Wireless. He's lounging on one end of the sofa in his living room, idly twirling his wand through his fingers and occasionally using it to add something to the piece of paper in his other hand. "Was there anything else, do you think?"

"Not that I can recall," James says from right next to him. A pause. "Unless you want any more of your, er, cheerful carrots."

"No, the grumpy green beans should do for this week," replies Sirius, shaking his head and laughing slightly. "Oh! But we do need more ice cream for my popcorn."

James makes a face at this suggestion. "What was that thing Evans put in her green salad the last time we went over for dinner?"

Sirius glances at him thoughtfully. "The leafy thing?"

"Mm."

"Radicchio?" questions Sirius. "The red stuff?"

"That's the one," James nods. "Write it down."

Sirius flicks his wand at the paper, adding _angry red yuck leaves_ to the list. "You know, personally, I think popcorn and ice cream tastes better than that did," he mutters under his breath.

James is quiet for a moment. Then, "D'you really think it sounds good together?"

For a moment, Sirius looks confused. "Of course I do," eyeing James. "You've seen me eat it enough in the past twelve years—"

"Not that!"

Sirius stops and just looks at him for a minute. "... Okay, what are we talking about here?"

"The.... y'know." James looks slightly uncomfortable. "What you said to Remus and Evans."

"You mean yesterday?" Sirius still looks confused. "About peanut butter and pickles?"

"No, not that," James says, rather impatiently. "Though, may I say, ew."

"It's good with cheese," Sirius says defensively.

"You'll eat anything with cheese," says James, shaking his head. "But thats not what I'm talking about."

"Not chocolate cake with cheese, I won't," Sirius mutters, while tucking his wand behind his ear. "So what ARE you talking about?"

"The... y'know. What you said. When they were fighting."

For a moment, Sirius's face remains confused, then an expression of comprehension appears. "Oh," he says.

"Yeah," James mutters, sounding rather embarrassed.

"You're thinking about _that_?" asks Sirius, and instead of being embarrassed, he sounds a bit amused.

"Just now."

"Why?"

James shrugs. "No reason."

"Then why'd you ask me about it?"

"It just popped into my mind." James pauses to fiddle with the sleeve of his robes for a moment. "Do you?"

Sirius arches his eyebrows. "You really want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

"I said it, didn't I?" Sirius counters, with a chuckle.

James looks at him for a moment, then stands up. "Forget it," he mutters.

Chuckling more, Sirius quickly reaches out to catch James's arm. "What, don't _you_ think Potter sounds better than Black?" he demands, teasingly.

"I'm going to bed, Si."

"No, no," insists Sirius, tugging on James's arm and grinning widely. "It's perfectly all right to feel that way. We like your half of the relatives better anyway."

James gives him a half-hearted glare. "Good night, Si. I'll see you in bed."

"Oh..." Slowly, Sirius lets go. He keeps grinning. "Well, all right."

Instead of leaning down to give him a kiss, James merely brushes his thumb across Sirius's hand lightly before escaping upstairs. Sirius watches him leave, his eyes on James's arse.

It's only after the other man has completely disappeared, that his grin slips. A moment after that, he frowns slightly. A door slams shut upstairs.

Sirius's frown gets deeper.

A moment later the toilet flushes, and another door slams.

His frown getting even deeper still, Sirius pulls his wand from behind his ear and waves it to shut the Wireless off. Setting his shopping list on the coffee table, he stands and heads for the stairs. There is no light radiating from their bedroom. Shoving his wand in his pocket, Sirius slowly opens the door and peeks his head in.

James is already in bed.

The frown turns a little worried, but Sirius quickly wipes it away as he enters.

The door shuts behind him with a soft click.

"Early night for you too?" James asks, somewhat gruffly.

Sirius circles the bed to lay down, fully clothed on his side of it. Putting an arm around the other man, he leans to press a kiss to his neck. "James?"

"Mm."

"You all right?"

"I'm sleeping."

"But, James, love–"

"Shit, Si, get in or get out!" James snaps.

Sirius rears back, his head pulling away, then freezes. "..... you're actually mad at me," he whispers, his voice very, very  
soft.

James sighs. "I'm not mad."

"Are you sure?" Sirius doesn't sound convinced; his voice hasn't gotten any louder.

"Yes," James mumbles. "I'm just... I feel like an idiot and can we please never talk about this again?"

"All right, of course." Sirius immediately cuddles against James again, pressing his face to James's shoulder. "Whatever you want, love."

"Thank you," James gruffs. "... are you really going to sleep in your jeans?"

"I'll change in a minute," replies Sirius, not moving now he's wrapped around James. "I'm comfortable."

"If you're sure."

"Mm. Hush, love, you wanted to sleep."

James complies.

An hour later, however, he's still frowning at the ceiling, while Sirius — still in his jeans, of course — snoozes away next to him.

Sighing deeply, he seems to come to a decision. Very carefully, he slides out from under Sirius's arm, sitting up slowly until his feet touch the floor.

Almost soundlessly, he grabs his wand and his glasses and slinks out of the room.

Not much later, Sirius shifts in his sleep, pulling in his arm as if to draw James closer. When this, obviously, doesn't work, he stretches and mumbles "J'mes?"

There is no response, and a moment later, Sirius struggles up onto his elbows, forcing his eyes and looking around the dark room. Seeing that it's empty, he sits up the rest of the way, knuckling his eyes before trying again.

Still no James.

Sirius turns to the clock, instead, and frowns.

It's nearly half an hour before James returns, opening the door as quietly as when he left, but Sirius is still awake, propped up against the headboard and obviously waiting for him.

"Merlin's beard!" James hisses, clutching at his chest. "Shit, Si, you gave me half a heart attack."

"Sorry." Sirius has his arms crossed over his bare chest. He's regarding James with a serious expression, a small frown line visible between his dark brows.

"It's all right," mumbles James, walking into the room and sitting down at his side of the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you, 's all."

"Obviously, you didn't."

Ignoring this, James explains, "Couldn't sleep. Went for a run."

"Yeah, I figured, when I woke up and you weren't here." The line between Sirius's eyebrows has grown larger.

"Don't worry, though, I washed off with the garden hose," James says, before slipping under the covers. "Sorry."

Sirius scoots over to make room for James, but otherwise doesn't move.

"Good night," James tries.

Sirius makes a noncommittal noise, and continues to sit there, arms crossed and covers bunched around his hips, staring at James.

"What?" James asks, his back to Sirius.

The other man hesitates. Then "... nothing."

"I can tell there's something," James says, rolling onto his back.

Sirius shifts his gaze to the wall opposite the bed. "You probably want to sleep."

"Yeah, well, I won't be able to with you fussing all night."

"I'm not fussing," protests Sirius, a trifle indignantly.

James just waits.

Sirius keeps staring at the wall.

"... all right, well, if you don't want to talk, I'm going to sleep."

Sirius grunts quietly.

"G'night."

"Night."

James turns his back to Sirius again.

For several minutes, Sirius doesn't move. Then he shifts slightly, turning to stare at the back of James's head.

"What is it, Si?"

Sirius clears his throat.

"Hm?"

"Look," Sirius begins, "I know you said you never want to talk about it again..."

James sighs.

"But you're not happy and..." Sirius's voice drops to a whisper. "... I'd really like to know what I did wrong."

"What you..." James sighs, turning onto his back. "You didn't do anything, Si." A pause. "I just... I just don't like it when you make fun of me."

Sirius frowns. "I didn't— I wasn't."

"It's my fault, too," James continues, ignoring him. "You'd think I'd recognise one of your jokes by now."

" _What_ jo—" Sirius stops for a moment, then demands, "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't realise you were joking," James sighs, running a hand over his face. "But I should have."

"What was I joking about?" presses Sirius, sounding confused and a little irritated.

"With Remus," James explains. "Or Evans. Whoever it was."

"... about the name thing?"

James nods.

Sirius stares at him. "... I _wasn't_ kidding, you idiot. Where in Merlin's pants did you get that idea?"

It takes James a few seconds to react. "You weren't?"

"Of course I wasn't!"

James turns to face him. "Oh."

Sirius is frowning slightly. "What made you think I was?"

"It sounded like you were taking the piss."

"I wasn't."

"Oh," James says again. "So you're —"

"Serious?"

"Don't make a pun."

Sirius sighs. "Sorry. Habit."

James raises himself onto an elbow, looking down at the other man.

"I mean," says Sirius, with a small shrug and an even smaller smile, "it might take me awhile to get used to being a SOP instead of an S.O.B..."

"What part of 'don't make a pun' do you not understand?" James asks, but there is a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Sorry," Sirius mutters, not particularly sounding it.

"Don't worry about it." James leans down, brushing his lips across Sirius's before placing his head on the other man's chest. Uncrossing his arms, Sirius wraps them around James and scoots down further on the bed. "Can we sleep now?"

"Mm." Sirius nods, one hand moving up to brush at James's hair. "... Love?"

"Yeah?"

"... d'you _want_ to get married?"

"Oh." James pauses. "Seriously?"

Sirius nods.

"Er, not really."

"Yeah." Sirius's fingers pause in James's hair, then move down to the side of his neck. "Me, neither."

For a moment, James doesn't react. Then he chuckles. Sirius does, too.

"Problem solved, then," James says, laughing fully now.

"Indeed," agrees Sirius, craning his neck to drop a kiss on James's head.

" _Now_ can we sleep? I really am quite knackered."

"'s all that running."

James yawns. "Probably."

"You idiot," Sirius says affectionately, closing his eyes. "Night, love."

"G'night," James says, snuggling even closer.

* * *

**Wednesday, 13 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you do if someone you love dearly has done something terrible, and confessed the whole thing to you? We're talking a serious crime here. On one hand, I don't feel this is something to take lightly, but on the other hand, a) I don't want this person to go to prison, and b) I was told about this in confidence. Do you have any advice whatsoever? /Conflicted** Dear Conflicted, In my opinion, what you should do depends on what type of "serious crime" this person committed. I mean, was it murder? Because in that case I'd say your only REAL option was to turn them in, that "in confidence" notwithstanding... But if they, say, ripped off the government for a great deal of money? Beat up someone who deserved it? In those cases, you're still rather obligated to take some kind of corrective action — not necessarily the kind of action that requires breaking their confidence and/or turning them over to go to prison — since they're all rather _wrong_ on some level, even if it _is_ only _legally_. Just... take steps to ensure they know that what they've done is wrong, and won't do it again? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is wrong with your fireplace, are you dating this Ivy girl, and if you are, will you go out with me too? /Alexa** Dear Alexa, Our fireplace only lets approved people through, Ivy is my _friend_ , and no I'm afraid I can't go out with you. I don't go out with more than one person at once. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why won't my mummy let me eat sweets for supper? I would much prefer to have gummy worms rather than broccoli but she says no. Why is she so mean to me? /John, aged 8** Dear John, If she let you eat sweets for supper, you'd have a horrid tummy ache _all night_ , and it would be so bad you wouldn't want to eat them for ages and ages afterwards! Your mummy knows this and, really, she's not being mean, she's making sure you always feel well enough to eat your sweets the next day. (Broccoli _is_ a bit gross, isn't it? I pretend it's really the tops of little tiny fairy trees that I just chopped off. Makes it taste much better!) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, For almost ten years I've been looking forward to the day my husband would retire, and all of the fun and exciting things we'd be able to do then. Now that day finally has arrived, but he's refusing to leave the country! He keeps complaining that everywhere is too hot or too cold, or that the food is disgusting (all he wants to eat is shepherd's pie) or that the people are too lazy or too noisy, etc etc. How can I get him to stop being such a xenophobe and take me to Morocco already?! /Stuck in Blighty** Dear Stuck, Use the Imperius...? Drug him and drag him to the Portkey while he's too out of it to protest? Try a bit of affectionate extortion? Or maybe just tell him that you're going, and if he doesn't want to come with, he can stay home and rot by himself? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is there any way to convince oneself to fall back in love with their spouse? I really don't want to get a divorce (I have young children, and I don't want them to grow up in a broken home) but I'm just not in love with my husband anymore. I do love him as a friend, though -- what do I do? /Ellen** Dear Ellen, Ouch. (Though congratulations to you for not going straight for divorce and the easy out!) My first impulse is to suggest that you start investing in Love Potions, but that's not really a solution, is it? In that it won't, y'know, solve anything. Have you tried talking to your husband about this? I think that ought to be your first step. Another good one might be revisiting some of the things from when you first got together — say, hire a babysitter and take your husband out to wherever you had your first date, things like that — and trying to figure out why you fell in love with him to begin with. Good luck! Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 15 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My ex-husband and I have shared custody of our three young children, and I have a problem: he keeps badmouthing me to them! Every time they come back from their father's he's told them something new and horrible about me, like I'm stupid, an idiot, an old hag, they shouldn't listen to me.... what can I do to make him see this is NOT good co-parenting? Help!! /Useless?** Dear Useless, Why, that butthead! Hexing him won't help, I gather... which is unfortunate. Have you tried confronting him about this? Verbally, I mean. If you have, and that didn't work, you might try talking to his mother or other close relative — if there are any sympathetic to you — and getting THEM to confront him, and if *that* still doesn't work, well, I'm back to hexing. Or getting a judge or someone to tell him to man up and stop being a brat. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm sick and tired of the rain in this country. I need to move somewhere else. I'd prefer somewhere with seasons like here, only less rain. I only speak English and I can't be bothered to learn a new langauge. Where do you think I should move? /Brolly** Dear Brolly, Um, the States? Somewhere in the middle, though, not at the top or bottom — I hear the Midwest is nice. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think I'd like it if my boyfriend wore womens underwear. How do I bring this up without him thinking I'm strange and perverted? /Alice** Dear Alice, Have him stay the night over at your place, only while he's asleep, destroy any and all possible articles of men's underwear in the place. Innocently offer him yours. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why do Muggles smoke those weird little papery things? /Trudy** Dear Trudy, Because those weird little papery things are bitter and nasty and bad for you and awesome. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Congratulations on your promotion! Does this mean you'll be covering the next world cup in two years' time? /Excited** Dear Excited, Quite possibly, yes!! At least, I'm definitely hoping! (And not just because then the Prophet would pay for my ticket, either.) Sirius  
---


	40. 18–24 June 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius finds himself at a Pureblood party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first and last of Monday, 18 June's questions are courtesy of LiveJournal user [golden_helikaon](http://golden-helikaon.livejournal.com/).

**Monday, 18 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My older brother (a seventh year) told me that all vampires are beautiful and that they sparkle in the sunlight. Is this true? I'd love to meet one if it is. /Ickle Firsty** Dear Ickle, It is categorically _untrue_! What is your brother trying to do, get you eaten? Bad him! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Whenever my boss is in a bad mood, he takes it out on his employees, ie me and my colleagues. Yesterday he ran out of coffee and as a result, we all had to stay three hours late and clean out the filing cabinets! I really need the money so I can't quit — what should I do? /Disgruntled** Dear Grunt, The way I see it, you've got two choices. You can either take the "safe, quiet" route and spend lots of time trying to make sure this boss never slips into a bad mood. Alternately, you can be "mean" and cause problems, just to revel in the sadistic joy of making his life horrid. (That one isn't really a real solution, though, given that it makes YOUR life horrid, too.) But maybe if you can get him grouchy and pissy enough, you could get HIS boss to send him to anger management classes or something. Sirius PS: Oh, yeah, and there's always hexing on the sly. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. I think I am completely unattractive to the opposite sex, and especially the guy I fancy. He seems to like me enough as a friend, but whenever I try to let him know I'm interested in him on a physical level he laughs it off and acts like I'm joking!! What can I do to stop being so repulsive? /Icky icky ew ew** Dear Ick, Probably you're not repulsive. Possibly he laughs it off 'cause he's attracted to you but really does think you're joking and doesn't want you to know how he feels 'cause he's afraid you'll make fun of him. Or maybe you're just looking in the wrong direction. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Speaking of underwear: Boxers or briefs? /Willie** Dear Willie, (Were we?) Boxers, when I must. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it weird to think about your friends having sex with each other? I mean like actually imagining them in the act and picturing it. /Pervy Friend** Dear Perv, A bit, yeah. Are they hot friends? Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 20 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem and I have no idea how to solve it! I have a two-month old son, and a nine-year old cat. The cat is very jealous of the baby. In fact, every time I breastfeed my son, the cat lies down on his face! I'm starting to worry I'll wake up one morning and the cat will have suffocated my boy. What should I do? I really don't want to give my cat away! /Mum of "two"** Dear Mum, Get a squirt bottle and fill it with water. Every time the cat gets too close to the baby — no matter what it or the baby are doing — use the squirt bottle to spray it. (It'll get the point.) Also, you might want to take to keeping the baby's door closed while he's asleep. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really love golfing. My wife really hates golfing. How can I get her to like it so that we can spend more time together? /Bryce** Dear Bryce, The Imperius. Or bribery (like, give her shiny things every time she comes with you). Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How many licks does it take to get to the centre of the lollipop? /Kelly** Dear Kelly, Speaking euphemistically— Actually, never mind, I'm not allowed to do that. But I did count once. I got to 711 before I bit it, instead. Oops. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What should you say when you recieve a really really bad present? And what is the worst gift you personally have ever been given? /Luisa** Dear Luisa, You say "Thank you" with a smile. Then, still smiling, you ask where they bought it... so you can take it back. The worst gift I ever got was this Muggle novelty fish (you know, the trophy kind that fisher-people's keep) that *sang* — and not even a good song! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you convince someone that their significant other is a complete and utter knob, when they're too in love and blinded to listen to you? /Concerned** Dear Concerned, You can't. You just have to stick it out long enough to be there when the complete and utter knob is finally out of the picture, so that you can valiantly not say "I told you so." Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 22 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you do to unwind after a long, hard day at work? I'm having real trouble leaving work behind when I go home at the end of the day, and it's making me rather frazzled and stressed out. Any hints or tips on how to separate your work from your spare time? /Elsa** Dear Elsa, If I've had a really bad work day, I get myself a beer — or a bottle of wine, or a glass of Firewhiskey — and I sit down with James and listen to the Wireless, and occasionally let him complain about being sore _all over_ , and somehow I end up feeling better. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the worst name you've ever been called? /Snarky** Dear Snarky, "Vile, rancid toefungus." (Which was followed by "without the integrity of a flesh-eating, man-hating dung beetle!") Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem that I feel might be a bit unusual. I can't seem to get any men to take an interest in me, and I have been told by several different people that the reason for this is that I am too good-looking! Apparently my appearance scares men off, as they feel they have no shot with me anyway. I don't think I do anything to further this impression -- I don't really value looks all that much -- and to be frank I find it a bit insulting that they can't see past my outside to get to know the inside! I like to think I'm kind and funny and smart, and I am well-educated (I work as a Healer), so why is it that men only think "pretty lady" and give up?! I don't get it! /Helen** Dear Helen, So, your problem is that you're just too fabulous on too many levels? Well then, your solution is just that you need to wait until you find an equally fabulous man — or at least, one who isn't intimidated by your, shall we say, surface. Trust me, once you find him, he'll be worth the wait... so don't give up! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it really true that redheads can't wear a) pink, b) orange or c) red in general? /Out of options** Dear Out, No. Well, all right, I suppose it is, in general, but some redheads can pull off some shades of at least one of those three colours. (My friend Lils has this really gorgeous burnt orange blouse...) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you do when two very close friends of yours, who have been in a romantic relationship with each other for a good few years, suddenly break up and start hating each other? And what do you do when they both expect you to take their side against the other one? Especially when you feel they're both in the wrong and should get over themselves, already? HELP!! /Stuck in the middle** Dear Stuck, You Stun them both, tie them to adjacent chairs, gag them, Enervate them, and you _rant_. You rant _hard_. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

__**Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
22 June 1984  
7.34 pm**

Following a green flash of light (and what looks like a rather painful collision of knees and floor), a delighted female voice calls out, "You fixed it!", completely ignoring the fact that the room she's just entered is, in fact, empty.

"Actually, I made _James_ fix it, like I told you I would," Sirius's voice answers, from the direction of the kitchen. "Did you break anything?"

"Nope, I'm in one piece," Ivy says, brushing off her dress robes as she enters the kitchen.

Turning from the man next to the table, Sirius grins and retorts, "What about my furniture?"

"Are you very attached to it?" 

"Only the sofa," admits Sirius. Leaning closer he whispers, "Why? Did you manage to break that horrid old armchair out there?"

"No... should I go back and try again?" Ivy asks, grinning. Then, after glancing around the kitchen for a moment, she turns to face the other man. "Hello. You're not James Potter."

Shaking a head of very obviously blonde hair, the man blushes. "N-no, I'm not." He darts a nervous glance at Sirius.

Sirius's grin widens slightly. "Not by a long shot," he adds, laughingly. "Ivy, this is Alec Harrigan, my accountant. Alec, meet Ivy Pierson."

"Hello," Ivy says, stretching out a hand towards the blonde man. "Nice to meet you. Sirius, I like your kitchen."

"Hi," murmurs Alec, tentatively taking Ivy's hand. He drops it almost at once, turning pinker.

Sirius is grinning at Ivy. "You do, do you? Pity it's not really _mine_ , then."

"I do," Ivy nods, grinning at Alec. "Whose is it? And why do you have an accountant?"

"It's James's," replies Sirius arching an eyebrow at the way Alec is staring at Ivy. He clears his throat pointedly before he goes on. "I have an accountant because I am loaded and James's folks were afraid I'd blow all my Galleons on booze and expensive clothes and be broke by the time I'm 25."

"And you're being responsible for him?"

Recognising that this question is directed at him, Alec gives her small smile. "Something like that. I'm— I'm good at responsible."

Nodding, Ivy grins at him, looking rather delighted. "So, if the kitchen is James's, what's yours? The loo?"

She's still looking at Alec.

Sirius snickers. "The telly." He glances between her and Alec. "So, Al, are we all done, then?"

Alec's gaze snaps away from Ivy's face. Looking pointedly over Sirius's shoulder, he nods quickly. "Oh. Er. Yes, quite... quite done."

"You're not coming to the party?" Ivy asks, looking rather disappointed.

Alec's face turns bright red. He shakes his head.

"Pity," Ivy says, before grinning at him again. "Well, I'm sure I'll see you around sometime."

"S-sure," replies Alec, his wide eyes drifting over to her again.

Sirius, for some reason that is surely quite inexplicable, is smirking.

"Shall we, then?"

"No time like the present," agrees Sirius, straightening his dress robes. "You can show yourself out, can't you, Al? Good. Off we pop, Ivy!"

"Bye," Ivy calls, waving at Alec as she grabs Sirius's arm. "Lovely meeting you!"

Alec waves back, less confidently. "You, too," he says quietly.

With a pop, Sirius and Ivy Disapparate, reappearing a moment later at the place Ivy's mother had instructed her to show up.

"Well, here we are," Ivy says, brushing her robes off again. "Seems like a nice fellow."

Sirius is still smirking. "... are you talking about me, or to me?"

"Don't be a prick," Ivy replies, still grinning. "Cute, too."

"Is he?" Sirius asks, one eyebrow raised.

"In a dorky, quiet sort of way," Ivy clarifies, as they walk towards the house in front of them. "I like that."

"And he's quite intelligent," Sirius adds, nudging her elbow with his and winking in a very overdone way.

"And responsible, no less!"

"And _single_ ," Sirius half-whispers, as they reach the front door.

Looking rather delighted, Ivy lifts the heavy brass knocker and lets it drop onto the door.

A full ten seconds pass before the glossy wooden door swings open. Behind it are two women, both slightly on the wrong side of middle-age, the first of whom takes one look at Ivy and the man next to her and declares, "So you really _did_ manage to find someone, Ivy. I was sure your mother was lying."

Meanwhile, the other woman smiles coolly at Ivy, taking a step back and gesturing for them to enter. "Your aunt was just telling me, young lady, how _surprised_ she was to hear—"

Ivy's grin, already looking rather frozen in place, falters.

The hostess, her smile still on her face but looking much colder, has stopped and is staring at Sirius — who is staring back — with obvious shock.

" _You_ ," she whispers, sounding as if she can't decide whether to throw him off her stoop or faint.

"Auntie Lucretia," Sirius replies, surprisingly evenly. He glances at Ivy, and a muscle along his jaw twitches. "This is a surprise, I'm sure."

Ivy blinks. "I didn't realise you were related to Mrs Prewett, Sirius."

"Daddy's sister," Sirius declares, far too sweetly.

Ivy's aunt's attention is fluttering avidly between her hostess, her niece, and her niece's escort.

Mrs Prewett's nostrils flare and her smile slips for a moment before she can compose herself. "Where _are_ my manners," she says, her tone almost as sweet as Sirius's. "Little Sirius, how... _nice_ to see you. _Do_ come in."

After hesitating a moment, Ivy takes a step forward. "Thank you very much, Mrs Prewett."

Sirius doesn't move. His eyes have narrowed on his aunt.

Ivy's aunt glances interestedly between Mrs Prewett and Sirius.

"Come on, Sirius," Ivy says, stepping inside.

Sirius arches an eyebrow at his aunt. Then, glancing at Ivy, he smiles — visibly forced — and murmurs, "Yes, dear." His voice is faintly sarcastic, but he does follow her.

Once well past the two women, Ivy tugs at his sleeve. "I didn't realise you were so closely related to her."

"I didn't realise you'd brought me to a _Pureblood party_ ," Sirius hisses back.

"Is that a problem?"

Sirius stops, staring at her. "Ivy..." he says slowly.

Ivy raises an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

"...do you have any idea when the last time was that I spoke to— to anyone who would be invited to one of these things by _my aunt_?" Sirius pauses, and then pales slightly. "Oh, _fuck_."

"Should I?" Ivy asks, though she's looking rather concerned. "Are you all right?"

Sirius is now looking around, a tense expression on his face, and he seems distracted. "I don't— These people— We don't get along," he says, rather tersely.

"Why?" says Ivy, looking puzzled. "Is it because you're with James?"

Sirius half-raises his hand, like he wants to clap it over her mouth, but catches himself at the last moment. "Shh!"

"What?" Ivy whispers, as they pass a group of rather staring people. 

"That's not public information," Sirius admonishes in a very, very low voice. "And no, that's not why. That's not even close to why."

"How clandestine!"

Sirius shoots her a look. "It isn't clandestine, it's just not _public_."

Ivy meets his look with an even one of her own. "What's the difference?"

Sirius visibly grits his teeth. "Ivy," he says through a clenched jaw, "there are a _lot_ of people here who _do not like_ me."

"Why, what'd you do?"

"I called them all bigots and ran away from home!"

Ivy stares at him. "What?"

Aware that his voice was getting a little too loud, Sirius drops it again. "My best friends are a bloodtraitor, a Muggleborn and a _werewolf_ — would you really expect me to get along with the kind of people that my family makes no secret of being?"

"A _what?_ " Ivy repeats, looking very interested by now. "Who's a werewolf?"

Sirius sighs exasperatedly. "Not James."

"Well, of course not."

" _Must_ you know?"

"Is it Lily?" Ivy asks, looking pensive. "She's feisty, right?"

"Muggleborn," Sirius informs her, with another sigh.

"They can't be werewolves?"

"What? No! Just— _she's_ not." Sirius frowns. "I don't think. Moony _might_ have bitten her last time..."

"Aha!!"

Ivy looks very smug for a moment. Then, "Wait. Who's Moony?"

"The other one," Sirius replies reasonably.

"The Remus fellow?"

Sirius snickers.

"You just keep unfolding like a flower," Ivy says, as they approach a group of women. "Mother!"

"Ivy!" responds a tall woman whose dark hair is only slightly greying. She smiles brightly. "There you are!" Her eyes go to Sirius, glazing slightly as her smile slips a little, before her entire expression gets even brighter. "And who is _this_?"

"This is Sirius," Ivy says, grabbing his hand and pulling him forwards. "Sirius, meet my mother."

"Hullo, Sirius!"

Sirius smiles slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Yes, yes, very lovely," Ivy says, pulling at his sleeve again. "Where's the bar?"

"Over there," Ivy's mother announces happily, raising her glass as if in illustration. "Absolutely _lovely_ G &Ts, dear!"

"Excellent," Ivy says, brightening instantly. "Come, Sirius!"

At the mention of a bar, Sirius also appears to have brightened. "Only because there's alcohol," he announces, and then half drags her in the direction of the bar with only a "Thank you!" directed at Mrs Pierson.

Ivy's mother wiggles her fingers in a wave at their backs, and takes another sip of her drink.

"Thank you," Ivy mutters under her breath as they head towards the bar. "That ought to shut her up until Christmas, at least."

Sirius blinks, momentarily distracted from his mission. "What? What did I do?"

"You're _here_ ," Ivy says, manouvering around another group of people. "Gives her hope I won't die an old spinster."

"... _what_?" Sirius turns to stare at her. "You're, what, twenty?"

"Not until August."

"Nineteen, and she's worried about spinsterhood?" demands Sirius, sounding downright horrified. He turns back to the bar. "You know what we need? We need drinks. Like, now."

"I won't argue with _that_."

Sirius conveys this desperate need to the bartender, an unusually tiny house-elf in a strangely dapper pillow case, and within moments is handing Ivy a large gin and tonic only half the size of his own.

Ivy eyes his glass. "That bad?"

"Insurance," explains Sirius, taking a restrained sip. "In case Auntie dear invited her charming sister-in-law."

"Oh." Ivy pauses for a moment. "I didn't realise you actually _ran away_ ran away."

Sirius looks faintly surprised. "What?"

"I thought you just... y'know, left to be with your man."

"I was _still in school_ , Ivy."

Ivy looks nonplussed. "Yes...?"

Sirius blows out an exasperated sigh and takes a slightly larger drink from his glass. "And I wasn't 'with my man' until last year."

"Really!" exclaims Ivy, waving half-heartedly at a man across the room from them before turning her full attention back to Sirius. "Why not?"

"Er." For a moment, Sirius seems rather baffled.

"I mean, you're obviously — why is that woman staring at you?"

"I'm obviously _what_?" asks Sirius, raising his eyebrows and studiously not following her gaze. "And why _wouldn't_ a woman stare at me?"

"Obviously rather sure of yourself," Ivy says, scoffing. "Honestly. She looks angry."

Sirius tenses slightly. "Angry?" he repeats flatly, while cautiously turning his head just enough to peer in the same direction as Ivy.

"Maybe just stuck-up."

As Sirius catches sight of the woman Ivy's talking about — tall, slender, blond, and with a look on her face like someone slipped extra lemon juice into her drink — some of his tension seeps away. "Oh," he mutters, "you meant _her_."

Ivy's still looking at her. "Uh-huh. Why, did you do something bad to her?"

"To Mrs Malfoy?" Sirius questions in surprise, then turns away and scoffs. "Nothing that I didn't do to the rest of my family."

"That's who she is?"

Sirius nods sharply, once. "The equally charming other half of Lucius-the-ferret-bastard — my cousin, Narcissa."

Ivy pauses to sip her drink. "I never saw the point in keeping track of all the pureblood relationships, you know."

Turning back to her, Sirius rewards her with his second-best smile. "Good girl."

"Wasn't very popular in Slytherin," replies Ivy, grinning back at him. "Anyone else in here you're related to, then?"

"Should've been in Gryffindor, I could've kept an eye on you," Sirius rebukes teasingly, while scanning the room. "Like I expect I should be doing tonight — bloody Merlin, was there a cousin Auntie _didn't_ invite?"

"I don't know," Ivy says, suddenly looking delighted, "but here's my father. Daddy!!"

"Hello, sweetheart," replies a cheerful-looking man with an enthusiastic goatee, approaching Ivy and beaming at her. "Your mother said you'd arrived. Are you enjoying yourself?" 

Ivy nods, throwing her arms around his rather generously sized waist. "This is Sirius, daddy. He's Mrs Prewett's nephew."

The look Mr Pierson throws at Sirius, while returning Ivy's hug, is at once both indulgent and suspicious. "But I thought you were bringing a date, sweetheart."

Sirius is grimacing at Ivy's choice of introduction, but tries to turn it into a smile. "It's nice to meet you," he says blandly.

"This is my date, daddy," Ivy says, giggling. 

Her father looks quite surprised, in addition to indulgent and suspicious. "He is? But he's—"

"— just a friend, but please don't tell mother that."

"Of course, of course." Ignoring the last part of her sentence, Mr Pierson looks between Sirius and his daughter and frowns slightly. "Are you _sure_ he's just a friend, sweetie? He doesn't look... _friendly_..."

"Quite sure, daddy," Ivy says, rolling her eyes a little. "Stop fussing."

"Hmph." Mr Pierson goes back to staring narrowly at Sirius. "Looks like a gigolo," he mutters under his breath.

Sirius, with a sigh, drains half of his gin and tonic.

Two hours later, Sirius is deep into another, even larger gin and tonic, and his grim scowl is starting to show around the edges.

Ivy's speaking to an older gentleman who appears to be rather closely related to her father, if the facial hair is anything to go by. 

She's not exactly _close_ to where Sirius is standing, leaning against a wall, but he's got his eyes determinedly fixed on her rather than the other occupants of the room. It's the only reason the voice off to one side — saying his first name rather more loudly and viciously than is strictly necessary — manages to take him by surprise.

For an instant, he freezes. Then slowly, he turns and frostily replies, "Mother."

"I didn't expect Lucretia to invite you." Mrs Black is looking at the wall next to Sirius as she says this, a rather stony expression on her face as she leans heavily on a walking stick.

"She didn't," Sirius declares, flatly, and then nothing else.

"Good."

It's not just the edges of Sirius's scowl showing now. "Cissa tell you I was here?" he asks snidely.

His mother nods stiffly. "Making a point, are we?"

"Excuse me?"

"By showing your face here."

There's a quiet growling noise, most probably coming from Sirius's throat, though he's not conscious of making it. "I didn't know."

"Well," his mother replies, in a tone rather similar to his own, "Lucretia was most upset. Congratulations."

"I didn't intend it," Sirius grinds out through clenched teeth. "Not that you'll believe that."

"Sirius?" Ivy suddenly asks, appearing at his side. "Are you all right?"

Sirius continues glaring at his mother. "Peachy."

"Uncle Phillip would like to say hello, but if you're busy —"

"I'm not busy at all," says Sirius, cutting her off while straightening from the wall, his face still grim. He turns his back on Walburga. "But I _was_ just about to leave."

Ivy blinks. "Leave?"

Sirius smiles tightly. "Yes. I just remembered a very important appointment."

His mother completely ignores both of them.

"Are you coming?" Sirius asks, his tone softening slightly.

"Um," Ivy says, glancing between the two Blacks. "Actually, my cousin Tristan just arrived and I haven't seen him in _years_ —"

"That's fine." The muscles of Sirius's neck and shoulders tighten, like he wants to glance back at his mother but he won't let himself. "I'll stop by tomorrow and make sure you got home all right, then."

"All right?"

"Enjoy yourself," Sirius instructs by way of farewell, then practically bolts for the front door.

He bursts through his own front door less than three seconds later, scowling worse than ever, and slams the door behind himself. Slams it _hard_.

"Merlin's toenails!" James exclaims, and a moment later comes scurring out of the living room. "The hell, Si?"

Sirius stays standing in the front hall for several moments, staring at James and breathing heavily. One look at Sirius's face and James's demeanor changes completely. "What's wrong?"

"She is _fucking lucky_ I like her," growls Sirius, still holding himself very still.

"Who?" James asks, crossing the hall and placing a hand on Sirius's arm. "What happened? Why aren't you at the party?"

"Ivy," Sirius mutters, right before his hands dart out and pull the other man roughly against his chest. He hides his face in James's neck, and doesn't answer the last two questions.

"Si, you're shaking," James mumbles as he pulls him closer. "What's the matter?"

"The party sucked?" tries Sirius, with a weak chuckle.

One of James's hands moves up to stroke the back of Sirius's head. "I'm sorry."

Sirius takes a deep breath of James, before announcing quietly, "My mother was there."

"Oh." James pauses for a moment, pulling Sirius even tighter to him. "Oh, shit."

"And Lucretia, and Narcissa, and half the fucking family," Sirius adds.

James just holds him, his hand still moving gently through Sirius's hair. 

"And—" Sirius pauses, giving a little growling gasp, "—she _talked_ to me."

"Come on," James mutters, taking a step backwards without releasing him. "I've got popcorn and beer and there's rugby on telly."

Sirius lifts his head. "You were watching telly?"

"Nope," says James, manouvering around the doorpost. "But I kept track for you, in case you'd be back early."

"Oh. Thanks." Sirius drops his face back to James's neck. "I'm better here, though."

"That's why I'm here."

Dropping down to the couch and pulling James with him, Sirius just nods.

James leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Sirius's forehead. "Wanna talk about it?"

"My despicable family despises me even more than I loathe them," mutters Sirius. "There isn't much to talk about."

"All right," James says softly. "You know that they don't deserve you, right?"

Sitting back slightly, Sirius snorts.

"Oi."

"You know you're outnumbered with that opinion, right?"

"Maybe," James says, settling against him. "But my opinion counts more, so there."

"It does," Sirius agrees, and sighs. "... did you say rugby, love?"

"And popcorn."

Smiling slightly, Sirius leans to drop a kiss on James's neck. "You're a lifesaver."

"No," James says, smiling as well, "I just know you."

"That's what I said."

Without another word, James flicks on the TV. Sighing once again, Sirius snuggles — into James as much as the couch — and finally relaxes.


	41. 25 June–1 July 1984

**Monday, 25 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have stick-straight hair and my sister has honest-to-Merlin corkscrew curls. Ever since we were little, aunts and grandmothers and what have you have been telling her how lucky she is for having such beautiful hair... and then they follow up by looking at me with pity in their eyes, telling me maybe mine will curl as I get older! How can I make them understand this is hurtful to me? (Not to mention ridiculous, as I am 18 years old -- I think my hair curling hopes are long dead and gone!) /Straighty** Dear Straight, Give a frustrated huff and demand, in a very chilly voice, just why the hell they'd think you'd _want_ curly hair. Seeing as how it attracts so much unnecessary attention and insensitive favouritism, and all that... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think my mother drinks too much Firewhiskey. Yesterday she forgot to make me and my brothers dinner. What should I do? /Daniella, aged 10** Dear Dani, Oh, dear! That _is_ a problem. Um... dump all her Firewhiskey down the drain. And complain to your daddy — or your grandparents. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you hide the fact that you're starting to get desperate for a mate? I think my vibes are scaring off any potential partners! /Despot** Dear Despot, You could practice trying to convince yourself that you AREN'T desperate? Spend at least a half an hour every day telling yourself that you don't need a partner to complete yourself. It might not work so well, as far as being true goes, but it should help you calm down a bit. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If Helen's a perfect girl, and you're a perfect bloke, who don't you two go out? /Matchmaker** Dear Matchmaker, Now, whoever said I was a perfect bloke? Regardless, I don't recall either of us asking the other. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a really serious problem. My girlfriend keeps punching me, and I don't know how to make it stop! People always think I'm joking when I tell them this, and I think it has to do with the fact that I am 6'2" and my girlfriend is 5'3". I realise it might sound ridiculous, but she leaves bruises! What do I do? /Punching bag** Dear Punching bag, If your positions were reversed, my suggestion would be to hit back... but since that's clearly not an option here, I would settle for threatening her with a Stunning spell for every time she hits you. And maybe try talking to her and trying to convince her that this kind of behaviour is really unacceptable. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Imogen Potter's Residence  
Minehead, Somerset  
27 June 1984  
3.17 pm_ **

"All right, ladies," Imogen calls over the soft hum of her friends' conversation as she re-enters her living room, a large plate piled high with biscuits floating in front of her raised wand. "This is the last batch, and I promised Sirius some, so don't eat them all. They _are_ his favourite."

The frailest, eldest-looking lady smacks her lips. "How is the dear boy, Imogen?"

"He was promoted," Imogen announces, beaming with pride, as she sets the plate on the table between the four witches.

"I read something about that," says a rather plump, rosy-cheeked old woman with impossibly not-gray hair. She is also beaming, though there's a tiny frown line between her eyes. "I just wish I understood that nonsense he writes about."

"Which part would that be, Greta?" the first woman asks. "The Quidditch, or the silly questions?"

"The Quidditch, Juniper," Greta replies, with a sad sigh. "I don't know how many times he's tried to explain it to me, but it's all just _silliness_."

"You're just hopeless, Greta," says the fourth, a blonde-turned-ash mop of hair framing her rather thin face. "Even _I_ get it, and I'd never heard of the thing before I went to school."

"You were less distracted by Sirius grinning at you, Cathy," Imogen points out tartly.

Greta's already pink cheeks get a little pinker, but she laughs. "That boy of yours grins so _well_..."

"Speaking of boys," Juniper interrupts, rather loudly, "has that godson of mine found himself a suitable young lass to wed yet?"

Imogen stares at her friend for a moment, and then begins giggling.

"Did I say something funny?" asks Juniper, giving the other two a puzzled look.

Greta looks equally confused. "No, I don't think so..."

"I'm sorry," Imogen manages through her giggles, pressing the fingers of one hand to her mouth. "It's just— if Sirius heard you call him that—"

Juniper blinks. "No, dear, I'm talking about James. Your son."

"I know that," replies Imogen, still giggling. "But the sweet little lass—"

Catherine's eyebrows disappear under her hair.

Imogen doesn't seem to notice as she finishes, "I don't think even Sirius would know what to say to _that_!"

Juniper tugs on Greta's sleeve. "What is she talking about, dear?"

"I'm not sure," says Greta, frowning a little and grabbing a cookie as if eating it will make things clear to her. "She seems to think you called Sirius a lass. And he is very pretty, but not—"

"What are you trying to tell us here, Imogen?" interrupts Catherine, rather brusquely.

"Oh, dear," murmurs Imogen, looking around at her friends as her giggles finally subside.

Greta looks faintly alarmed. "... Sirius isn't _really_ a girl, is he?"

"No!" A stray giggle escapes Imogen. "No, he's not, but he and James—"

Catherine chokes on her biscuit.

"Oh." Greta relaxes, and reaches for another cookie. "That's all right, then."

"Imogen," Catherine says, "are you implying what I think you are?"

Imogen slowly lowers her hand. "If you think I'm implying that my son and Sirius are together," she says, smiling and taking a biscuit.

Catherine says nothing, her lips narrowing into a thin line.

Greta considers this announcement for a moment, then sighs. "All that gorgeousness, wasted on another man."

Juniper peers up at Imogen. "That's all very lovely, but I'm still waiting for an answer, dear."

"No sweet little lass," Imogen declares, not at all apologetically, still smiling.

"What she's saying, Juniper," Catherine says, rather coldly, "is that her son and his best friend are induldging in..." she pauses, her lips thinning even further. "Homosexual behaviour."

Imogen's smile withers at Catherine's tone. "I wouldn't put it quite like that."

"How would you put it?"

"They're in love," Imogen says calmly, a bit of a glint entering her eyes.

"Well, good on Jimmy!" Juniper exclaims, slamming her teacup down on the table. "Quite a catch, that boy is!!"

"Yes," agrees Greta, just a little wistfully. "So _pretty_..."

"Greta!" Catherine exclaims. "Please!"

Greta blinks at her. "Well, he _is_ ," she insists.

"You could be his grandmother!"

"Oh, piffle," the other woman huffs, waving two biscuit-filled hands dismissively. "Doesn't mean I haven't got eyes."

"Yes, well," Catherine mutters, "not that it'd do you any good even if you were fifty years younger."

Greta flushes and glares, but stuffs biscuit in her mouth instead of saying anything.

"Catherine, that was uncalled for," Imogen declares, the glint in her eyes more pronounced.

"But you just said —"

"That's not the point."

"I think it's sweet," Juniper announces, twice as loudly as anyone else. "Just darling."

"The boys?" asks Greta, as if she could possibly talking about anything else.

"Quite," says Juniper, even louder than before. "So shut it, Catherine."

Catherine flushes.

Imogen just raises her eyebrows and asks, sweetly, "More tea?"

"Please," Catherine mumbles.

While Imogen refills Catherine's cup, Greta gives her a sideways look. She nibbles another biscuit, and then announces, "I should have them for tea."

"Tea?" Juniper echoes. "I'd like more tea."

Imogen refills her cup, as well.

"Tea and cake," Greta continues, thoughtfully. "Cake will get Sirius to come over."

"Are you really going to bribe a twenty-year old boy to come over?" Catherine asks, rather disdainfully.

"No, of course not!" protests Greta indignantly, with a toss of her fantastically orange hair. "He's twenty-four."

Catherine gives Imogen a look.

"Well, he is," says Imogen, giving a delicate, expressive little shrug. "And bribery works remarkably well on him..."

"Is that what James did?"

Greta's teacup clatters loudly against her saucer. "Catherine!" she exclaims, looking shocked.

Imogen narrows her eyes. In a steely voice, she asks, "I beg you pardon?"

"I'm just saying," Catherine continues, "that Sirius could have any young woman he wants. Why would he —"

"Are you implying that my son _couldn't_ have any young woman he wanted?" interrupts Imogen, her face suddenly as hard as her voice.

"What?" Catherine says, sounding actually shocked. "Of course not!"

The corner of Imogen's mouth lifts, just slightly, in the beginnings of a sneer that she must have borrowed from Sirius. "Of course he couldn't?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Imogen."

"Well, then." Imogen's expression doesn't change. "If he _could_ have, why shouldn't Sirius want _him_?"

"Because he's a he!" Catherine snaps.

"What nonsense. Your roots are showing, Cath," Greta declares, before a still-chilly Imogen can open her mouth again.

"Her hair looks fine to me," Juniper half-shouts, peering at Catherine's scalp.

"Not _those_ , the _Muggle_ ones," Greta corrects her, gently.

"Silly, you can't see those!" says Juniper with a laugh, grabbing another biscuit and slurping down some more tea.

Greta shakes her head. "You can when someone's talking about not wanting a Potter because of their gender!"

Catherine says nothing. Imogen is still glaring at her. "I really don't think Sirius cares _what_ James is," she says firmly. "In fact, as far as he's concerned, James could probably be a goat, and he'd still want him."

"Sirius fancies goats?" Juniper asks, a bit of tea running down her chin. "He ought to have a chat with Abe, he'll tell him how to handle it —"

"For Merlin's sake," mutters Greta, and moves around to sit on the couch right next to Juniper, beginning to explain — very loudly — about James being the only goat Sirius fancies.

Ignoring the both of them, Catherine faces Imogen, a stubborn look on her face.

"Be realistic, Cathy," Imogen admonishes, after a moment.

"I am being realistic."

"Not if you can't see how perfect they are for each other!"

Catherine averts her gaze.

Imogen sighs. "What's so very terrible about it, anyway?"

"It's just..."

"It's just _what_?" presses Imogen. She gives Catherine a stern look. "I'd like a straight answer, if you please."

"It's just..." Catherine struggles with her words for a moment. "Just not _natural_ , Imogen."

"By which you really mean _normal_ ," replies Imogen, shaking her head slightly. "As if either of my boys were ever _that_!"

Catherine's lips thin even further. "Can we just... agree to disagree on this, dear?"

Imogen opens her mouth to say something, before reconsidering and snapping it shut again.

"I'm very glad they're happy," Catherine adds.

"You aren't... going to treat them differently," Imogen finally says, half an order and half a question. "Are you?"

Pausing only half a moment before answering, Catherine says, "Of course not."

Imogen regards her intently for a bit, then nods resignedly. "All right, then."

"Are you sure you don't need any advice on goats?" Juniper asks.

"What?" Looking over, Imogen grins. "No, no goats, June."

"If you're sure," says Juniper, not sounding convinced. "Give us another bikkie, Im."

Greta glances at the plate of biscuits. Imogen glances, too.

There's one left.

"I'm sorry. This one's mine." So saying, Imogen rather snatches it up.

"Oi!"

"Hostess," Imogen points out primly.

"I thought you were saving one," Catherine points out. "For Sirius."

Imogen does not look concerned. "I'll make him cake. He'll forgive me." She smirks. "Bribery, remember?"

* * *

**Wednesday, 27 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem, and please bear with me as I try to explain this in a way suited for children. I'm a man, in a relationship with another man, and he's the, shall we say, dominant one, if you know what I mean. I don't mind this in itself at all, in fact I am very happy with our intimate life. It is his reason for not wanting to try it the other way around that I take issue with: he says that he is not a woman. Is he implying that I am?! How can I make him see his logic is, to say the least, very flawed, without pushing him away? Please help! /Lee, not Lisa** Dear Lee, I'll admit, this question took me awhile to answer... mostly because it made me think of something a friend of mine said once, and I couldn't stop snickering. (No reflection on your situation, of course; the friend is just a bit of an idiot about certain things.) As for my suggestion, I'd say that you should start by asking your man, the next time the subject comes up, if that — you being a woman — _is_ actually what he means. Probably he doesn't have a good answer for this, and will try to fob you off with a "no, of course not" or something similar. Then you simply point out that that's how it sounds, and ask — with your best confused voice, to soften the blow — what he *does* mean. If that doesn't work, well, just announce that he's being an idiot and you both have man-style equipment so clearly neither of you are women, and let that be an end to it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think my best friend's parents hate me! They never ask me to come around and last time I met them, they kept hinting that my friend should spend time with people who are a better influence on her! What should I do? Do your parents like James? /Bezzie** Dear Bez, This is one of those things that, if it really concerns you, you need to talk to your friend about. It's up to the two of you to decide how much of a problem their apparent dislike of you is going to be. I mean, my parents have always absolutely loathed James, but that hasn't stopped _us_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm considering moving to Siberia. What do you reckon would be the pros and the cons? /Anne in Middlesex** Dear Anne, Cons: Cold. Lack of English. Cold. Far away from civilisation (I know, I know, this would be a pro, except "civilisation" includes adorable Brit grocery stores where you can buy chocolate cake). Cold? Pros: ...er. I hope this has been helpful! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could be a woman for one day, what would you do and why? /Orlando** Dear Orly, ... A lot of people will roll their eyes if I say "have sex a lot", won't they? Only I can't think of anything else I'd really, really want to do... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm thinking about getting a motorbike. Since you're an expert, is there anything I should think about before purchasing one? Loads of money and all that, after all. /Walter** Dear Walter, The most important question pertaining to motorbike ownership: Do you look good in leather? Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 29 June 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend is so bossy! She thinks all of my decision and choices -- like where to live, where to work, who to date -- have to go through her, and none of it is ever good enough for her! Just the other week she scared off this bloke I really liked by telling him how many children I want, and how I want them soon -- and then she told me about it as though she'd done me a favour! How can I make her stop acting like this? /Fed up** Dear Fed up, Tell her you appreciate her concern for you, but to take it to such a point is both unnecessary and insulting. Perhaps don't put it exactly like _that_ — but you could always accuse her of being in love with you, and jealous of those blokes of yours. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I take a writing class in the evenings and we've been given the task to describe a) ourselves, b) our significant other or best friend, c) our job and d) our life in exactly ten words. I have no idea what to write! What would you put down, were you in my class? /Blocked** Dear Blocked, a) That fancy, facetious, flawed fop your mum warned you about. b) The best parts of everything I've ever thought of wanting. c) Where I get paid for being myself, only more so. d) A whopping big, beautiful joke that has no punch line. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think my husband's best friend is in love with me. My husband, however, just thinks I'm delusional and self-important but I'm sure I'm right! How can I make him see my point? /Taken** Dear Taken, Investigate! Come up with evidence and present it to your hubby as proof that you are right and he is wrong. Only try not to fall for his friend... or make said friend fall off balconies or anything. And don't get strangled. And don't let the friend write adorable little poster-board signs about how perfect you are. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My brother doesn't like ice cream. Do you think there's something seriously wrong with him? /Ben** Dear Ben, Only if his name is Jerry. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think you'll ever get married? Why, or why not? /R.S.** Dear Rita, (For a bit there, I was certain I'd been entirely deprived of the very great pleasure I derive from answer your stimulating questions. Clearly, I was wrong. Pity.) Maybe, because it might be nice eventually, but then again, maybe not, because really, do I need to? Sirius  
---


	42. 2–8 July 1984

**Monday, 2 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My five-year old was recently told a bedtime story featuring Inferi by his (very irresponsible!) godfather, and now he's terrified to go to sleep. What can I say to make him get over this fear? /Sleep-deprived** Dear Sleepy, Tell him that the Inferi his godfather talked about are on _his_ side, and much stronger than any other Inferi out there, so he doesn't need to worry about them. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it true that women sometimes fake you-know-what?! How are you supposed to tell? /Panicked** Dear Panicked, Not being a woman, I can't say absolutely — but yes, I heard that they do. I'm... not sure how you tell. I mean, it's not like with a man, where it's kind of... _obvious_. Maybe you should ask a woman? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really don't get along with my sister and it's driving me insane. We were always at odds and ends growing up but I thought it'd get better now that we're adults, but it hasn't at all! If anything, it's worse than ever! I really want our children to grow up knowing their cousins -- how can I make her see we need to make an effort? And how can I stop from wanting to strangle her all the time?! /Peace yearner** Dear Peace I'm not really the best person to be asking about how to not want to strangle your siblings, never having quite got over that urge myself. I would probably recommend deep, calming breaths and some kind of "She's my sister, she's my sister, must not kill" mantra. Maybe try saying to her what you've just said to me. Plus, you know, some nice descriptive anecdotes about the awesomeness of cousins. (I'd help with those, only it'd be rather dishonest of me.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it true that James Potter is getting married to Délphine Demereaux of the Quiberon Quafflepunchers and moving to France? How about the rumour that she is already carrying his child? /Not R.S.** Dear Not, _What?_ Of course it's not true! None of it! That's just ridiculous. I don't think James and ms Demereaux have ever even _spoken_. Where do you hear this rubbish?! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the worst rumour you have ever heard about yourself? And out of the things written about you, roughly how much of it is actually true? /Logan** Dear Logan, I think it was the one about how I kill puppies all the time. Or the one about being a Death Eater spy. Hm. Probably definitely that one, actually. Regardless, like 80% of the things I hear about me, neither of those were true. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 4 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Ninjas or pirates? /Viking** Dear Viking, Samurai. Or samurai-pirates. Or Quidditch-playing-pirates. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently started dating this very suave and intellectual woman, and it's great. However there is one little problem: she loves red wine. I can't stand red wine. I've been forcing it down as to not seem like an uncultured slob, but I still find it disgusting! Is there anything I can do to make it more appealing to my palate? /Not a wino** Dear Non-wino, Hm. I think you're approaching this issue from the wrong direction. Instead of trying to figure out how to make yourself like something you detest, you should be trying to think of a simple, straightforward way of telling this very suave and intellectual woman that, unfortunately, her drink of choice is not also _your_ drink of choice. Don't worry; this is not a stumbling block for most relationships between intelligent people. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it true that you can get pregnant from swallowing you-know-what? /Fretting** Dear Fretting, I, um, _really_ don't think it works that way. I mean, that doesn't even make _sense_... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My child has the worst morning temperament ever -- and I mean ever. He'll try to hit me when I wake him up, throw his pillows or anything else he can reach at me, latch onto the bedding and refuse to let go... and that's before he even gets out of his bed; let's not even talk about breakfast! What can I do to stop this horrible behaviour? /Punchbag mama** Dear Punchmama, Hm. Tell him he gets nothing for breakfast — or at least, nothing _yummy_ — until he stops being such a bear. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever had a go at driving a car? If so, what was it like? /Gerald** Dear Gerald, I did, once, but it was so traumatic an experience that I got James to Obliviate me. Well, I tried to. Anyway, it did not go well. The cows didn't think so, either. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 6 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think I am being stalked by Dark wizards, but all of my Sneakoscopes, Foeglasses etc are saying I'm fine! How can I get them to work? I mean, just last week my milk bottles moved several inches on their own between my going to work and coming back in the evening -- it's got to be someone out for me! Is there something more reliable out there? /Doomed** Dear Doomed, Anti-anxiety pills. And spending less time measuring the location of your milk bottles. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think there is something wrong with my libido. I just want to get it on with everyone I meet! The other day I found myself lusting after my best mate's 60-year old mother -- this can't be normal!! What should I do? /Horndog** Dear Horndog, Stop wanking so much and get a girlfriend. _Not_ your best mate's 60-year old mother. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, As a sports reporter, do you get invited to the British and Irish Quidditch League Annual Dinner? If so, I think you should hold a contest where the prize is to be your date! /Ella PS: Who is James going with?** Dear Ella, Unfortunately, no, I do not, as there's still one sports journalist on staff above me. You're welcome to suggest that a contest be held with being _his_ date as the prize, of course, but not only is he over fifty, his wife's a Quidditch junkie and she might not appreciate not getting to go. Sirius PS: I have no idea. Actually, I don't think _he_ has any idea yet, either. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My ex-husband and I were divorced last year, and he is now living with another man. Our two children (aged 7 and 9) live with me and have yet to meet their father's new partner. How can I prepare them for their first encounter with him? I don't even know where to begin! /Confused** Dear Confused, What's wrong with just telling them their daddy has a boyfriend? It seems fairly simple to me... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend and I recently had a huge row and we haven't talked since then. I am ready to put it all behind me but I don't know where to begin! How do I take the first step towards making up? Did you and James ever get into a really bad row? Please help! /Lonely** Dear Lonely, James and I have fought, of course — we _are_ males — but we've only had a really bad row, of the kind you're talking about here, a few times (literally; I can count them on one hand without making use of my thumb). Furthermore, I've been fortunate enough that I've never gone very long without speaking to him. It seems to me, though, that the first step to moving past such a huge fight is rather straightforward — you go to them and tell them that you don't like fighting with them and you want to move past it and you're sorry. At least, I hope you remember to tell them that you're sorry... Sirius  
---  
  
**

WARNING: NC-17/MA content below.

**

* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
6 July 1984  
5.28 pm_ **

"... noooo, you'll just have to waaaaaaaaaaaait..."

The sound of James's warbling is somewhat muffled by the noise of running water. Sirius pauses in the doorway to the bathroom, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Well, this is ironic..." he mutters.

"I keep WAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIITING —"

Shaking his head slightly, Sirius continues over to the shower, sliding in to join James. "Hi."

"My mama said — _shit!_ "

James jumps, stray shampoo suds flying from his hair to the wall as he turns around.

" _I've_ never heard your mama say that," says Sirius with a smirk.

"Yes, well, you've obviously never been around before my nana was coming around," James says, clutching at his heart. "Trying to kill me, Si?"

Sirius's smirk doesn't move. He reaches out to pull James's hand from his chest, replacing it with his own. "Maybe just your singing..."

"Could have fooled me," James mutters.

"Did you have to pick that song?" Sirius inquires, ignoring James's words and leaning in to nuzzle his slightly soapy neck.

"Did you have to _listen_ to me sing?"

"Kind of hard to avoid," Sirius mutters against his skin.

"Yes, well," James mumbles back, "maybe if you didn't stalk me in the shower..."

Sirius freezes for a moment. "But I like stalking you in the shower," he whispers eventually, sounding slightly guilty.

James grins, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. "I'm in a hurry, you know."

Sirius gives a whiny little growl. "Why?"

"Chris's birthday party, remember?"

"So you're rushing out on a naked me because of the Quidwitch?"

"Don't call her that," James says, half-heartedly. "And besides, what would I tell her?"

"'Sorry'?" Sirius suggests, pouting.

"Not a very good excuse," James says, shaking his head before ducking under the spray to rinse out his hair. "Might wanna keep that in mind."

"Well, what's wrong with 'Something came up'?" demands Sirius, no longer pouting as his eyes are too busy staring at James's freshly wet hair.

"And when they ask me what, exactly, what do I tell them?" James asks, smirking at the look on Sirius's face. "'My boyfriend accosted me in the shower'?"

Blinking most of the lust out of his eyes, Sirius stares a moment. "... I was thinking you could say 'I did' but 'My boyfriend' works too."

"Does your mind ever crawl out of the gutter?" James asks, his amused tone betraying his words.

"Only when it wants a shower with its boyfriend."

James just looks at him questioningly.

"It likes showers with its boyfriend," Sirius says helpfully, beginning to smirk again.

"I got _that_ part," James says, a small, puzzled frown between his eyebrows. "I'm just confused about why you're looking at me like that."

Sirius promptly attempts to look innocent, but it's rather hard to pull that off when half his face is already set to 'wolfish' and has no plans to switch any time soon. "What, can't a man look at his _boyfriend_?"

".... add confusion about why you keep repeating that word."

"You started it," Sirius declares cheerily, as wolfish takes over his face entirely.

"I said it on—" James breaks off, comprehension dawning on his face. "Oh."

"Bit slow, aren't you?"

Looking slightly embarrassed, James puts a hand at Sirius's side. "Well. ... you _are_ , aren't you."

Still smiling, Sirius arches a brow. "Slow?" he asks. He moves so his hips press against James's, his erection obvious. "I don't think so."

"How about annoying?" James suggests.

Sirius laughs and nuzzles James's neck. "Of course I am, love."

James makes a small noise of agreement. "D'you mind, then?"

"Mind what, exactly?"

"Y'know," James says, his other hand sliding up Sirius's back to the nape of his back. "Me calling you that."

Leaning back slightly into James's hand, Sirius asks, "Why would I?"

"I dunno, it's a bit..."

"A bit what?"

"Flaming?" suggests James.

Sirius laughs again. "So?" he demands teasingly. "A little thing like that's supposed to bother me?"

James grins slightly. "What're you calling little, eh?"

"Not you, certainly."

"Damn straight." To illustrate his point, James presses his hips closer to Sirius's. Sirius moans a little, moving to James's arse to hold him in place, their cocks rubbing together. "I guess," James half-whispers, "that I'm gonna be late for that party after all."

"You never really had a chance," agrees Sirius, smugly, grinding his hips forward gently.

James's head dips back slightly. "You're an evil bastard, you know that?"

"Are you complaining?" grins Sirius, leaning forward to lick James's collarbone. "Mm, taste like soap."

"Evil and greedy and... delicious."

" _You're_ delicious," Sirius retorts, grazing the hard shoulder with his teeth as his hips rock forward again.

"It's all relative," James replies, his head falling back further. "Si?"

Sirius's mouth is still busy exploring the other man's freshly-washed skin. "Mm?"

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

"M'mouth is busy..."

Having none of it, James slides a hand into Sirius's hair, yanking his head up until their lips collide. Sirius mumbles something that gets lost in the friction, then slips his tongue into James's mouth to reacquaint himself with it, too. James's reaction is to push forwards even more with his hips, until Sirius's back collides with the shower wall.

The tiles are a cold shock after the warmth of the water against his skin, and Sirius hisses in surprise. "James..."

"What?"

"I haven't cleaned off yet."

"Oh." Looking oddly delighted, James leans back a little. "We can fix that."

Eyes half-lidded and breathing a bit heavy, Sirius stares at him and murmurs, "Yeah?"

"Uh-huh," James mumbles back, reaching out and grabbing the bottle of shampoo. "See?"

"Indeed." Sirius lets his wolfish grin back out, bending his head forward a little, to make it easier for James to reach. "Go on then."

James dumps a liberal amount on the crown of Sirius's head, reaching up with both hands to work up a lather.

Sirius's eyes drift almost all the way closed. He gives a low, humming growl and leans his head into James's ministrations. His cock twitches against James.

"You have the weirdest kinks, you know that?" James mumbles, his hands working slowly at Sirius's scalp.

"Mm, 've no idea what you're on about," mumbles Sirius, his voice lower than usual.

"Uh-huh."

Sirius arches his neck. "What's weird about this?"

"Soapy," is James's rather less-than-eloquent reply. "Rinse."

"You'll have to let me away from the wall."

James takes a small step backwards. Sirius edges around him, taking care that their bodies touch whenever possible, to stick his head under the water.

"You'll get bubbles in your eyes like that."

In response, Sirius closes his eyes and tips his head back.

"Better," James chuckles, stroking through the now almost sud-free strands. "Now soap."

"Can I open my eyes again?" asks Sirius, mostly jokingly.

"Unless you want me to wash your eyebrows."

Sirius smirks, his eyelids lifting. "That won't be necessary."

James grins back at him. "Keep them open, then."

"If they're open, I can watch you wash me..."

"... seriously, Si, weird kinks."

Sirius raises both his brows. "This from the man who wouldn't let me touch my cock at all and made me come all over the sheets anyway?" he asks innocently.

"That's just talent," James whispers, a very cocky look on his face.

"That's _bossy_ ," counters Sirius, voice husky, catching James by the hips and pulling him forward to kiss.

"Mm," James mumbles when he pulls back slightly a few moments later, "and you don't like bossy, is that right?"

"Did I say that?"

"I think that was the gist of it..."

Smirking, Sirius says nothing, but reaches for the soap and passes it to James.

James takes it, not taking his eyes off Sirius. "Where should I begin?"

Sirius spreads his arms a little, invitingly. "Wherever you like."

Teasingly, James places his hands just south of Sirius's armpits, tickling a little. Sirius squirms a bit, pouting.

"James."

"Hmm?"

"Don't."

"If you say so," James replies, his hands sliding down the other man's sides, stopping at his hips. "Boyfriend."

Sirius tips his head back to rest on the wall. "Boyfriend," he repeats, grinning. His cock twitches again.

"'S what you are, isn't it?"

Sirius just grins more widely.

"Mine," James clarifies in a whisper.

"Yours," Sirius replies firmly, his hips moving forward as if seeking James's.

James groans, his hands sliding down and around to Sirius's buttocks. "You still want a wash?"

Sirius considers for half a moment, then shakes his head. "After," he suggests.

"After," James agrees, leaning in to kiss him again.

Moaning, Sirius tangles his hands in James's hair, pressing their mouths together hard.

"Can't believe we've never done this before," James mumbles against his lips.

"Considering how long it took you to let us do it on the sofa," Sirius says, " _I_ can."

"Yeah," James agrees, with a small forward thrust of his hips, "but this is much easier to clean."

Sirius's reply is a groan and a thrust of his own that makes their erections slide deliciously against each other.

James's lips trail across Sirius's cheek, nuzzling his ear, before moving down his neck.

"Fuck," Sirius moans, arching his hips up desperately. In response, James's hands tighten on his arse. Sirius's hips arch forward again as the rest of his body quivers, once.

"Yeah," James moans, his tounge lapping once, twice at Sirius's jugular. "What d'you wanna do, Si?"

"Ah—" Sirius shudders again, his voice catching. "I dunno."

"Don't know?"

"So many choices," explains Sirius, one of his hands moving from James's hair, down his shoulder to his back.

James chuckles, before biting down on Sirius's neck gently. "Indeed."

" _Shit_."

"You're so easy," James whispers.

"So—" Sirius croaks. His voice is unsteady, so he clears his throat before continuing. "So I have a little fetish."

"I think I'd noticed," James murmurs, repeating his earlier motions.

"Love," groans Sirius, as his body jerks and his erection rubs James's harder, "I'd really prefer you to fuck me before I come."

James gives a low chuckle, then groans. "Is there anything in here —"

Sirius shakes his head. "I dunno."

"Think," James orders, his mouth still on the other man's neck.

Sirius moans. "How'm I supposed to do that, with you doing _that_?"

Grudgingly, James pulls his head back a little. "There. Think. Baby oil, lotion... hair gel?"

"Why would we have baby oil?" scoffs Sirius, looking around.

"Could come in handy," James replies, as he traces the seam between Sirius's buttocks with one fingertip. "In moments like these."

"Not like we've had a lot of those." Sirius frowns slightly. "How far away's your wand?"

"Bedroom."

Sirius groans. " _That's_ unhelpful."

"Where's _yours?_ " James counters, pushing forwards with his hips again.

"Counter by the sink." The words are growled more than spoken, and his eyes have gone glassy.

"I knew I should have learned wandless magic," James groans, taking a tiny step back. "Don't go anywhere."

Sirius gives James a very flat look. "Yeah, that was the first thing I was gonna do."

"Just making sure," James mumbles, pressing a final kiss to Sirius's lips before slipping out of the shower. Sirius leans against the wall, hands now pressed to the cool tile near his hips, his cock thrusting hard and prominent, dripping water.

James retuns less than half a minute later, his hair wilder than ever and a bottle in his hand. 

"Took you long enough," accuses Sirius, his hands immediately returning to the other man's body.

"Yeah, well, _someone_ closed the door behind them," James accuses right back.

"Habit," shrugs Sirius.

"Doesn't matter," James mumbles, stepping close to Sirius once more and pressing his lips to those of the other man.

Sirius devours his mouth, hand reaching for the bottle in James's. James surrenders it willingly.

"Going to use this?" Sirius asks, opening it one handed.

"Yeah," James breathes.

Sirius hands it back, open now. "Good."

James kisses him once more, rather breathlessly, running his hands down Sirius's sides again. "Turn around."

Shuddering, Sirius turns, bracing himself with his hands back on the wall.

James wastes no time, sliding a finger into him almost instantly. Breath catching, Sirius bucks his hips backward into James's hand. Leaning in, James runs his lips across the back of Sirius's neck.

Sirius swears under his breath. "Come _on_ ," he pleads.

"Yes," James agrees, adding a second finger. "Spread your legs a bit, Si."

Shifting his feet, Sirius does as he's told, spreading them until his body is a few inches lower. Groaning in response, James removes his hand, positioning himself behind Sirius.

Craning to shoot a begging look over his shoulder, Sirius pushes his arse against James's cock.

"Yes", says James again, pushing in slowly. "Oh —"

"God _damn_ ," gasps Sirius involuntarily, voice all rough and desperate with pleasure.

"Sorry," James gasps as his movements forces Sirius's cheek against the wall. "Sorry, sorry —"

"Shut up," Sirius growls, thrusting back against James. "Just— shut up!"

James complies, his left hand snaking around a hip, wrapping around the other man's cock. Sirius moans and his body jerks. He doesn't seem to know whether to push himself back on James's cock, or forward into his hand.

Meanwhile, James's lips have found the back of Sirius's neck once more. In response, Sirius's muscles clench around James.

"I won't — if you do that," James says, low and breathless.

"Can't— help it," growls Sirius. "I'm—"

"What, you're what?"

"—so _close_."

"What, now?" James growls, the movement of his hips speeding up a little. "Merlin —"

"I'm sorry," says Sirius, around a weakly suppressed shudder. "Only— you were so— And I can't—"

James shakes his head, lips still pressed against the back of Sirius's neck as he speeds his hand up further. "It's all right, it's -— oh, fuck — let go."

Sirius shakes his head too, tightly, his whole body stiff with tension. "But you—"

"I'm right behind you, Si," James whispers, his mouth close to Sirius's ear. "Let go for me."

Sirius gasps, James's cock hitting just exactly the right spot as his words penetrate the lusty fog in Sirius's brain. " _James_ ," deep and needy, and he shatters.

"That's it," James groans, slowing his movements as Sirius recovers. "So gorgeous —"

"Don't," protests Sirius, trying somewhat limply to rock back against James so he doesn't slow down. "Please."

"Just a second —"

"Please," Sirius repeats, deliberately tightening his muscles. "I want you—"

James moans, loudly and drawn out, as his hips slam forwards again.

Sirius makes a low, satisfied sound.

"Shit," James gasps, "shit, you feel amazing, Si —"

Sirius clenches his muscles just like before and pushes back again, with more energy this time.

"Again, Sirius."

Sirius obeys, moaning the other man's name. James's fingernails dig into Sirius's hips, pressing tiny crescents into the skin there. "Sirius," he gasps out as he comes, "Sirius, Si —"

Sirius moans again, shuddering slightly.

James leans heavily against his back. "Shit, but you're easy."

"Only for you," Sirius retorts in a mumble, slumped against the now-warm tiles. "I think I've a weakness for you in the shower."

"Weird kinks," James mumbles back, nipping at Sirius's neck again.

Sirius rolls his eyes a bit. "Like you didn't get off on it too."

"Like you didn't notice I did."

"Maybe I didn't," teases Sirius, with a smirk. "Would you give me an instant replay?"

James laughs. "Glad to hear you think so highly of me."

"Yes, well, I'm not the one whose party you're late for."

"Mm," James agrees as he pulls out. "Better not tell Chris it was your fault."

Sirius makes a small disappointed noise at James's withdrawal. He turns around, but stays slumped against the wall. "Why not?"

"She'll forgive _me_."

"It's not _my_ fault your Quidwitches are jealous of me."

"Yet another reason not to tell her," James laughs, pulling at Sirius's shoulder. "C'mere."

"But she might like the story," says Sirius, leaning away from the wall and into James. "It does involve you naked."

"Somehow I don't think shower sex is really her thing."

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "How would you know?"

"Don't tell her I told you," James says, lowering his voice to a whisper, "but she skips after-practice showers."

"... you pay attention to that?" asks Sirius dubiously.

"Cliodhna was complaining about the smell."

"... the pixie pays attention to that?"

"She's a woman, isn't she?" James asks, grabbing the soap.

"Actually, I have a theory about that—"

Starting to wash Sirius's neck and shoulders, James says, "Do share."

"Her dad slept with a very pretty house elf," Sirius declares solemnly, tilting his head back. "She's the result."

"Oi!"

"And that brother of hers?" Sirius goes on.

"Now _he_ might be jealous," James mutters as his hands travel to Sirius's chest. "What about him?"

"His mum slept with Hagrid," Sirius replies matter-of-factly, with a low hum.

James pauses for a moment, then breaks out laughing. Sirius smirks.

"You sure you don't wanna come with me?" James asks, still laughing. "I'll miss you, you know."

Sirius's smirk turns into a warm grin. "You think that Chris'd forgive you?"

"They don't _really_ hate you, Si," says James, rolling his eyes a little.

"They seem to..."

"They just have a bit of trouble with... separating work-you from you-you."

Sirius frowns slightly. "... you just sounded like me. I have no idea what that was supposed to mean."

"What, you understand me better than you understand yourself?" James asks. "Turn around."

"I understand you better than I understand you-being-me," corrects Sirius, moving so James can wash his back.

Scrubbing at his back, James shoves a little, pushing Sirius under the spray. "There. All done."

"Not doing my legs?" pouts Sirius, shaking his body in a very dog-like fashion to encourage the rinsing process. "And you still haven't told me what you meant."

"If I bend down that far I won't get up again," James says, stepping closer to Sirius once more. "You know you haven't always said the nicest things about them as Quidditch players, don't you?"

Smirking at the innuendo, Sirius reaches up to push his wet hair from his face. "Well, they haven't always been the nicest Quidditch players, have they? I mean, Cliodhna _did_ lose you that game last season..."

"That's the sort of thing I'm talking about."

"Hm." Sirius pauses for a moment. "Maybe you ought to write in pretending to be a fanboy so that I can talk about what awesome _people_ they are."

James grins. "Maybe I will."

"Then I could come to their parties with you," adds Sirius, grinning now. "And add to my collection!"

"I'll work on it," James promises, pressing a quick kiss to Sirius's lips. "But now I'm _really_ late."

"What are you still doing in here, then?" laughs Sirius, pushing him out of the shower. "Get a move on!"

"Don't waste all the hot water."

"Go, love!"

Pressing one final, lingering kiss to Sirius's lips, James does.


	43. 9–15 July 1984

**Monday, 9 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it unmanly for a bloke to be on a diet? I've gotten a bit pudgy but I really can't be bothered to work out. Is eating salads just too girly to be all right? /Stevie** Dear Stevie, Why would eating salads be girly? That's like saying that eating steaks is too manly for women. What ridiculousness. Good food is good food — and being pudgy is too big a price to pay for a little bit of food-related pride. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My 11-year old twins are due to start school in the autumn and their father and I can't seem to agree on where to send them. I'm pushing for Hogwarts, for obvious reasons, but my husband really wants to send them to Durmstrang. He went to Hogwarts too so he has no good reason for this! How can I make him see that his viewpoint is, well, wrong? /Annoyed wife and mother** Dear Annoyed, Good grief, why would anyone even want to send their children to Durmstrang? Not only do they probably actually teach _Dark Arts_ there, but you'd be sending your children far away to a foreign country, a place where people probably barely speak English (if they speak it at all), without their friends or anything. Not to mention, as you and your husband went to Hogwarts, they've probably been hearing about it their whole lives — it would be cruel to deprive them of finally getting to go. Tell your husband he's a bonehead and you're children are going to Hogwarts like all good British witches and wizards should. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really hate my boyfriend's hairdo. How can I let him know without hurting his feelings? /Sonica** Dear Sonica, "Baby, don't you think it'd be neat if you did [insert preferred style modification here] with your hair?" Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've just come to the realisation that I much prefer hanging out with my best friend than spending time with my significant other. What do you reckon this means? /Conflicted** Dear Conflicted, I reckon it means you ought to think about splitting up with your rather insignificant other; proper significant others should at least equal your mates in the "want to be around" department. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any really bizarre fears or phobias? /Karl** Dear Karl, Well, seeing certain people bleed makes me a bit deranged. Other than that, um... extremely large felines? Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 11 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever used a Time Turner? If not, and you were offered the possibility, what moment would you revisit and why? /Ellie** Dear Ellie, I never have, but I think that if I could, I'd... I'd want to go back and relive the evening of November 19th, last year. Or maybe the morning following it... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are there any good potions for combatting BO? I have this horrible feeling I stink and everyone's just too polite to tell me! /Bob** Dear Bob, It's called soap, lad. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Lately I've been thinking that I'd really like it if my husband and I could have an open relationship. I have no idea how to bring this up, however. My sister says that any man would jump at the chance, but since I'm not a man I thought I'd ask you, because well, you are. If your significant other told you they wanted an open relationship, would you be happy? Why, or why not? /Gretchen** Dear Gretchen, Well, I don't know if this is typical for all men, but I would certainly _not_ be happy if my significant other said such a thing; I do _not_ want to share. Then again, I suppose it must depend on the significant other in question... maybe your husband _would_ appreciate it. The only way to know is to ask! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think my teenaged son has been stealing from me! Whenever he's been home over the holidays lately I've noticed money missing from my purse. How can I bring this up with him without him feeling as though I'm accusing him? /Bereft** Dear Bereft, What do you mean, without him feeling as though you're accusing him? You _are_ accusing him. If you don't want to tell him you think he's been stealing from you, don't — but don't try and pretend that isn't what you're doing. As your son's apparent behaviour demonstrates by its absence, honesty is important. _Extremely_ important. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently heard a rumour that you like to wear purple crushed velvet and fur trimmed smoking jackets, matched with fob watches. Is this really true? /Steve K** Dear Steve K, That I... _what_? Purple crushed velvet and fur trim?! That's... that's just _disturbing_. I would never let my good taste slip that far — not even dead! Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland  
12 July 1984  
3.06 pm_ **

 

"And then I said, 'Pat,' I said, and he was all, 'I don't have time for this, Clee,' like can you believe that?" Cliodhna asks, holding the door open for the taller woman next to her. "The nerve of him!"

"I heard brothers were like that," Christine remarks, with a sage nod. "But I don't have any so I just get rolled eyes and this look that you'd normally save for a pair of _really_ old shoes."

"Oh, he'll do that t— Merlin and Agrippa!" Cliodhna exclaims, clutching at her chest as they walk around a corner and nearly crash into James. "What the hell, Potter?"

"James!" Christine squeaks, and then gives him the old-shoe look. "What are you _doing_?"

"Waiting for you," James says, taking a step backwards. "You took longer than usual."

"Why?" asks Christine, rather surprised.

"I dunno, did you shower for once?"

Christine stares, and turns rather red. "Oi!"

" _Any_ way," James says, ignoring her reaction, "I wanted to talk to you ladies."

"I should hope that's what you want to do," Christine grumbles, glaring at him. "What with sneaking up on us, and all."

"Aye," Cliodhna agrees. "You gave me a right heart attack, mate!"

"I said I was sorry!" James shoots back, planting his hands somewhat awkwardly in his pockets. "You, er, you know the Quidditch annual is coming up, yeah?"

Christine glances at Cliodhna. "Of course," she says, losing her glare and smiling slightly. "I've bought my robes already."

"Oh." James deflates somewhat as Cliodhna nods in agreement. "So, um, I suppose you both have found dates already, then."

Christine's face turns red again. "... Why?"

"'Cause I haven't," James mumbles, staring at his feet and looking more awkward than ever. "And I was wondering."

Cliodhna looks like she might burst out laughing.

"You... haven't got a date?" repeats Christine. She looks rather amazed.

"Yeah. No."

"But— How?"

"What d'you mean, _how_?" James asks, a little sharply. "I just don't!"

A small giggle escapes Cliodhna's lips.

"Er." Christine blinks rapidly for a moment, then turns urgent eyes on her friend, as if looking for help explaining herself. "I just, um, would have thought, you know, that you'd, well, not— Um."

"Look, Chris, I haven't even asked anyone," James says, glaring at Cliodhna. "Stop laughing."

"Oh." This seems to make much more sense to Christine, for she nods slightly. "Okay."

"Sorry," Cliodhna manages to get out, without laughing too much. "Been booked up for ages."

James sighs. "Chris?"

Christine glances at Cliodhna again, now wide-eyed and disappointed. "I'm sorry," she says after a brief pause, and she really sounds it. "I promised one of my sisters that I'd take this friend of hers, and it'd be really rude to pull out of it now—"

"Damn it!"

"Er," says Christine again, looking rather unhappy. "I'm sorry?"

James grunts in reply.

"Why, er," Cliodhna asks, rather timidly, "did you want to take one of us anyway?"

Christine nods, looking very interested in his answer.

"I didn't," James mumbles.

"... excuse me?"

"I didn't!" repeats James, glaring half-heartedly at Christine. "I wanted a non-date and you two seemed like a safe bet."

Christine opens her mouth indignantly.

"That's charming," Cliodhna points out.

Christine closes her mouth, looking thoughtful. Then she laughs. "Oh, _James_ ," and laughs again.

"What?"

"This is priceless!"

"What is?" James asks, looking quite put out. "What're you laughing at?"

" _James Potter_ can't get a date!"

"I can too get a date!" James says, his cheeks darkening. "That is not what I said!"

"But you haven't got one," Christine points out, sounding rather gleeful. "If you can get one, why haven't you got one?"

"I don't _want_ one!"

"Even with all your groupies, you can't— Wait, _what_?"

"I said," James says, glaring more than ever at Cliodhna, who by now has given up pretending not to laugh, "that I don't _want_ a date."

"... well that's just ridiculous," declares Christine, who has stopped laughing and is looking rather shocked.

"Why?"

"Why _isn't_ it?" she crosses her arms. "Who doesn't want a date?!"

"I don't, I want a fake date so people will think I have one!" James says, flailing his arms a little. "What's so weird about that?!"

"Why do you want people to think you've got one if you haven't got one?"

James all but rolls his eyes. "'Cause it's mandatory to bring one."

"I'm sure you could just tell them 'Oh, I'm sorry, I'm single and I forgot I have rabid fans,'" Christine declares, with a small frown.

"That's not how it works, Chris."

"Fine." She uncrosses her arms and plants her hands on her hips. "Well, why don't you ask that redhead, then?"

"Who, Evans?" James looks rather incredulous. "The one who's all but married to one of my best mates?"

Christine shrugs. "It sounded better than suggesting your mother."

"Oi!"

"Don't give me that look, you're the crazy person who doesn't want a proper date!"

"Who're you calling crazy?" James shoots back.

"Enough," Cliodhna cuts in sharply. "James. Christine."

Christine's sheepish expression would not be out of place on a six-year old child. "Sorry," she mumbles. James mutters something incomprehensible, then sighs.

"What was that?" asks Christine.

"I said, are you _sure_ you can't help me out?"

"I'd like to," Christine says, maybe a little too quickly. Then she frowns. "Only I _did_ promise."

James sighs again. "Thanks anyway. ... Clee?"

"I've got a date," Cliodhna says, looking rather pleased with herself. "An _actual_ one, as opposed to the two of you!"

Christine gives her a dirty look. Cliodhna ignores it.

James gives her a pleading look. "Can you cancel?"

"James, I am not cancelling on him for _you_ ," Cliodhna says with a roll of her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

"This one isn't related to our coach," explains Christine.

"Not even by marriage!"

"They don't even like the same kind of cheese," Christine adds.

"... that's... great," James says, shaking his head. "So. No chance at all?" He turns to Christine. "What if I pay the guy off?"

Christine stares at him. "You're so desperate you'd pay off _my_ not-date so I can be _your_ not-date?"

"I am not desperate!"

"Then why are you offering to pay off my date?!"

"Because I don't want to have to ask Evans!" James says, then looks like he rather wishes he hadn't.

Christine frowns at him. "Why don't you just find a _real_ date? I'm sure _someone_ would like to get asked out by you."

"Because I'm — " James pauses. "I just don't want a real date, all right?"

"All right," says Christine, still frowning like she thinks he's mental.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, though."

Cliodhna pats his arm. "Better luck next time."

"Even if you are cracked," Christine agrees, patting his other arm.

"Yes, well," James mutters. "I've got to go home and come up with a plan B."

"Don't hurt yourself," says Christine, starting to grin.

James mumbles something that sounds suspicously like "Evans might," before Disapparating without as much as a wave.

Cliodhna looks at the empty air where he just stood. " _Well._ "

" _That_ was odd."

"He _finally_ asked you out and you said no."

Christine stares at her friend for a moment. She scowls lightly. "... oh, shut it."

Cliodhna nearly smirks. "After all the whining and pining —"

"I was never _pining_ ," protests Christine, loudly.

"You were too," insists the shorter woman. "Remember last summer when he showed up to practice in that sleeveless thing?"

"That wasn't pining!" Christine insists. "That was _lusting_."

"Lusting, pining, whatever," Cliodhna says with a shrug. "You still turned him down, and you'll still have to take Ludlow Harper instead."

Christine grits her teeth. "I promised my sister."

Cliodhna pats her arm. "I know, hun. Better luck next year."

"I really wish I could hit you sometimes," mutters Christine, heading for the door.

"Too bad you need me to win games," Cliodhna agrees. "So. Dinner?"

"Yes," Christine nods. "But you are _so_ paying."

* * *

**Friday, 13 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My now ex-boyfriend and I used to take a lot of, er, intimate pictures. Now that we're broken up I'm very uncomfortable with him still having copies of these, but when I asked him to give them to me he laughed at me and told me they were his property! What can I do to make him hand them over? /Nudie** Dear Nudie, This is a situation where having magic comes in handy. Break into his place, Stun him, and search until you find and destroy all of the pictures — unless you don't mind _you_ still having copies, in which case just keep them. (Don't forget the negatives, though, either way.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever heard of the game "Two truths and a lie"? I think it would be brilliant if you'd have a go and let your readers play! /Quizzie** Dear Quizzie, I have, indeed. What an excellent suggestion! Here you go, then: ~ I was nineteen when I lost my virginity. ~ I once beat up a female. With my fists, not magic. ~ I have frequent, vicious, bloody nightmares that make me cry. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you got to pick the line-up for the English national team, who would be on it and why? /Keeley** Dear Keeley, I'd take Harvey Mellow (last seen Keeping for the Appleby Arrows, though it's rumoured the Wanderers are after him) because though he's not flashy or prone to brilliant saves, he's solid and only let through 15% of all goal shots made against him last season. I'd also take Puddlemere United's Beaters (Dave and Peter Martin) because they work together like one person on two brooms, Holyhead's Seeker (Liza Parker) because she's fab and not Irish like certain other fab people I could mention. For Chasers I'd take Montrose Magpies' Kendra Daniels and Caerphilly Catapults' Roger Lazenby, because they're both top-notch players who seem to work well with anyone they're paired with, and James Potter, because he's... James Potter. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What was the first bit of magic you ever performed? /Annie** Dear Annie, Accidental magic? I set my uncle's hair on fire. He was thrilled. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know how the Aeroplane works? It's sort of like the Knight Bus, right, only in the air? My daughter needs to go to Spain and I want to go to Norway, and we don't enjoy Portkeys. How long do you reckon it would take by the Aeroplane? And is there a specific way of flagging the Aeroplane down? My daughter reckons we ought to stand on the roof when doing it, but I'm uncertain. Thanks for your advice! /Della PS: How does the Aeroplane stay in the air, if not by magic?** Dear Della, I'm fairly certain that an Aeroplane is not, in fact, like the Knight Bus, only in the air. You don't flag it down; you go to an Air-Port and buy a ticket and get on the Aeroplane and then it goes to another Air-Port and you get off, and if you're not in the place you want to be, you buy another ticket and get on a different Aeroplane. I think going to Spain or Norway might take a couple of hours, but I'm not the best person to be asking, as I've never been on an Aeroplane. Sirius PS: I don't know. It's probably got something to do with Physics, the Muggle kind of magic.  
---


	44. 16–22 July 1984

**Monday, 16 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you think about women with loads of muscles? Who is the fittest lady you know? /P.J.** Dear P.J., I like women with muscles as much as women without them, really! As for the fittest... I think I'd have to say my James has a couple of women on his team who are quite, _quite_ fit. Christine Davenport, for example, is very attractive but could still probably almost beat me in an arm wrestling match, and charming little Cliodhna O'Brian pushes around men twice her size — I should know, I've seen her do it to her brother. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you make boys notice you? I'm in my fourth year and I have a huge crush on a boy who is in my house but in seventh year. I don't think he even knows I exist. What should I do to get his attention? /Stina** Dear Stina, Don't you reckon a seventh year might be a bit old for you? In any event, I think males of that age generally only notice breasts, so unless you've a very nice pair of those, you're probably out of luck for a while yet. If you're still determined, however, or you want to try your luck with someone a bit closer to your own age, I suggest smiling. And being nice. The boys who know what's good for them will go for that — and the boys who don't go for it are probably not worth it... yet, anyway. Good luck with your manhunt! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a step brother and he is very nice but my mother is always giving away my things to him without asking me first. I don't like this very much. Mum says I need to stop being a baby and need to learn how to share. Do you think she's right? /Em** Dear M, No, absolutely I do not. Giving _your_ things to him, _without_ your permission is not evidence that you "need to learn how to share", it's proof that your mother needs to learn how _not_ to. That she is your mother doesn't automatically afford her the right to go redistributing your possessions willy-nilly without consulting you first. You're not in the wrong for not liking such behaviour; she is, for using it to begin with — not to mention then trying to make it seem like you _are_ at fault. It's unjust and inappropriate. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you reckon it's dangerous eating too many bananas? Like, fifteen a meal, three times a day? My tummy feels a bit strange. /Monkey Man** Dear Tail-y, I dunno about "dangerous", but it's probably not healthy, even though bananas ARE pretty good for you. Maybe you should try limiting yourself to, say, one per meal. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am really, really, really (I mean really!) attracted to my husband's best friend. I would never act on it, as I'm very much in love with my husband and I don't even care that much for his friend -- I just like looking at him. (He is very, very fit. Very.) Is this wrong? And if so, is there anything I can do about it? /Wandering eye** Dear Wandering, Well, on the one hand, I'm firmly of the opinion that there's nothing wrong with a healthy aesthetic appreciation for the very, very fit around oneself... I also think that lusting after one's husband's best friend _is_ a bit wrong. (And something that I would never, ever do.) Maybe you ought to concentrate on spending more time _doing things_ with hubby dearest? Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 18 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think girls are quite icky and disgusting and gross. Do I really have to marry one when I grow up? /Archie, aged 8** Dear Archie, No, not if you don't want to, though you might eventually change your mind about them — you could marry a boy, instead. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have THE biggest crush on a Quidditch star and it's really... well, destroying my life. I can't date anyone else because they just don't measure up to this player I like, and I have a very slim chance of ever meeting said player, let alone dating them. Is there anything I can do to get over this unhealthy obsession? /Fan** Dear Fan, I dunno. Dig up really horrible, unflattering dirt on said player? Stop watching Quidditch? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really hate my accent. Is there any way I could change it without sounding like a complete stuck up prig? /Mumbley** Dear Mumble, Maybe start out small, only change a few little things, until everyone who knows you is used to it, then change a little more... and so on and so forth until you're speaking the way you want to. Though, hopefully not like a stuck up prig. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the last thing you do before sleep? /Johnnie** Dear Johnny, Usually, make a satisfied noise and feel very, very grateful. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife and I are getting divorced, but we haven't told anyone yet. The problem is that I am really fond of her family, and especially her father. Is there any way I can break the news to them without completeley alienating them? I'd really like to maintain a relationship with them -- they are, after all, my children's flesh and blood. Please advice! /Danny** Dear Dan, Sounds a bit tricky. Probably you should be straight-forward about it, and explain to them what you just explained to me — and maybe see if you can get your wife to put in a word for you. After all, it's not like you hate each other, right? Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 20 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am really, really desperate to lose weight. My husband has all but said he'll leave me unless I shed some fat, and I really don't want that to happen. However, nothing I try works! Do you think there's some sort of potion you can drink that's slightly corrosive or something? I'm ready to try anything and everything! /Flabby** Dear Flabster momma, Uh, I don't think slightly corrosive potions would do anything but put you in a great deal of pain. Try catching stomach flu, instead. Or stop eating entirely and go out running every day. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think I'm starting to develop feelings for a coworker of mine -- the thing is, said coworker is a man. I have never in my life been attracted to males before; in fact I've had loads of girlfriends and have even been married once. What do you think this means? Is it a midlife crisis? Brain tumor? And what do I do about it? /Confused** Dear Confused, It's not a midlife crisis, a brain tumor, or anything else of such an alarmist, negative nature. It means you're attracted to a man. It's not the end of the world, you know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think you seem really cool and awesome and I was wondering if you'd want to be my friend? I never really hear you mention mates other than your roommate and everyone needs variation. What sort of traits do you look for in a mate? /Richard** Dear Dick, Oh, ouch; you've probably just put me in the figurative doghouse with Remus (another male mate of mine) for, oh, the next two decades. He's going to think I neglect him on purpose. Closed-mindedness makes me _angry_. Ahem. By preference, my friends are intelligent, loyal, kind and... open-minded. Also, it helps if they find me amusing. As for your other question, well, believe it or not, I'm fairly well satisfied with my friends (not all female) as they are. I don't think a person necessarily needs many... quality over quantity, you know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, when do you reckon a child is old enough to get their first broomstick? My husband and I have very varying opinions on the matter. /Polly's mother** Dear Pollymum, About one year, I reckon. The sooner you get them on the broomstick, the more likely they are to fall off— I mean, get used to hanging on. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have been terribly in love with the same person -- a friend of mine -- for about three years now, but nothing has come of it. I'm too scared to let my feelings out in the open without being sure that they'll be returned. Lately I've been despairing that it's just never going to happen, and nothing will ever come of this. What should I do? Is three years too long, and should I just try to get over it and move on with my life and find love somewhere else? /Party of one** Dear One, Sometimes, getting over it isn't as easy as going out and trying. Not to mention that while putting yourself out there for rejection is hard — really, really, indescribably hard — giving up on something you want can be harder. And if you think about it, three years in the entire lifespan of a wizarding person is... not exactly all that long. Not when there could be something amazing waiting for you at the end of three more. Besides, you've already got someone to love; why do you need someone else? Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
21 July 1984  
2.13 pm_ **

Dressed very inconspicuously in tight, bright pink shorts and a white t-shirt missing roughly half of the standard material (most of it from the bottom portion), Ivy sprints up the walk, her ponytail bouncing, to knock cheerfully on the front door.

A few moments later, the door swings open to reveal a rather confused-looking James. "Er. Hello."

Ivy stares at him for approximately three-eighths of a second, before her eyes light up and she more or less flings her self at him, shrieking "James Potter! Oh, oh, oh, _HELLO_!"

James backs up in horror, throwing his arms up and out. "Miss?"

"No, Ivy," she corrects, stepping back with her hands still on his shoulders. She beams at him.

"Ivy," James echoes, before his eyes widen. "Ivy! Si's Ivy!"

This description of herself makes Ivy beam even more. "I see why he likes you so much," she declares, and then leans to one side and peers past James into the house.

"I was afraid you were a rabid fan," James explains, leaning over so that he's blocking her view of the house. "He's not here."

Ivy leans back on her heels and peers up at him, a feat which would have been easier if she wasn't almost eye-level to begin with. "He isn't?"

"He's at Andromeda's," James says. "His cousin."

"His cousin," repeats Ivy, a little like she's trying to make it sound like a dirty word, but then she frowns. "I thought he doesn't like his cousins."

"He likes this one," explains James. "Er. Should I ask him to Floo you?"

"No," Ivy says, with a small shake of her head that somehow sends her ponytail bouncing again. She pauses a moment, then, "What about Alec?"

James blinks. "Alec?"

Ivy nods, looking rather hopeful. "Yes, Alec. You _do_ know Alec...?"

"Alec _Harrigan_?" James repeats, looking more confused than ever. "My accountant?"

Some of his confusion seeps into Ivy's hopeful. She blinks at him. "I thought he was Sirius's."

"He is," says James, crossing his arms over his chest. "And mine. .... why are you asking about him?"

"I was wondering if he was here."

"Uh, no." James pauses for a second, then lights up. "Hey! You're a girl!"

All of the hopeful disappears and Ivy looks _completely_ confused. "Uh, yes..."

"D'you wanna come to the Quidditch annual with me?"

Ivy stares at him. James bounces on his heels a bit.

After staring at him for another moment, Ivy asks, "... do I get my threeway if I say yes?"

"Excuse me?!"

"Sirius said I couldn't sleep with you because you're not interested in threesomes," Ivy explains reasonably. "But if you're asking me out—"

"No!" James exclaims, looking completely flabbergasted. "I'm not — _no_!"

"Oh. All right." Ivy looks only marginally deflated. "I didn't really think you would. Sirius probably wouldn't share, anyway."

"No, he wouldn't!" James says, his voice rather shrill. "Why would we —"

"Which is a pity, since you're both _seriously_ fit," Ivy says just a bit sadly, and then something seems to occur to her, and she exclaims, "Wait, did you really just _ask me out_?"

"We're b— yes, yes I did," James nods. "August third. A Friday."

"Oh." Ivy sighs. "I can't."

James's face falls.

"I have a date with Alec," Ivy supplies, almost consolingly.

"... excuse me?"

"Only he doesn't know yet," she adds judiciously.

James blinks. And blinks. "I'm sorry; would you like to come inside and explain that statement?"

"Sure," and Ivy beams at him again.

James steps away from the doorway, and Ivy moves past him into the hall, then on into the living room. "You have a very nice sofa," she tells him.

"It is, rather," James agrees, following her. "Now explain why you're dating my accountant."

"Oh, I'm not," corrects Ivy, taking a seat at one end of the rather very nice sofa.

"... then why can't you come to the annual with me?" asks James, as he sits down in the not-so-nice manky old armchair.

"Because it's on my birthday and I _want_ to be dating your accountant." She smiles at him. "I just need Sirius to tell him."

"Oh."

Ivy looks at him apologetically.

James looks very, _very_ disappointed. "I'll just have to... ask someone else, I guess."

"I'm sure you'll have better luck nex—" Ivy starts to say, but then she cuts herself off suddenly and looks at James like she's just realised what they're talking about.

"I wouldn't count on it," James mutters. 

"Why are you looking for a date?" demands Ivy, ignoring him. "Are you trying to cheat on Sirius? Because I thought you were _cool_ and _that_ is very _not_ cool."

James's jaw drops. "Of course I'm not!"

"Oh, good. I figured you wouldn't, really." Ivy grins. "Who _would_ cheat on Sirius?"

Still looking rather bewildered, James shakes his head. "No, that's why I asked."

"Why you asked what?"

"Why I asked _you_."

Ivy frowns, slightly. "But you didn't know about the threeway until I told you. Did you?"

"No, I —" James breaks off, shaking his head again. "I need to have a date for the annual. I don't want to ask anyone who thinks it's a _date_ date."

"Oh." Ivy pauses thoughtfully. "Did the werewolf say you couldn't borrow the Muggleborn?"

".... just exactly what has he been telling you?!"

"He doesn't tell me anything," she says, a bit defensively. "I've never met him."

James blinks. "I'm referring to Sirius."

"Oh." Ivy blinks too, then, "You mean his best friends _aren't_ a Muggleborn, a werewolf and a bloodtraitor?"

"Oi!"

"Not that I think that's a bad thing," Ivy adds hurriedly, seeing the look on his face. "Sometimes Sirius's life just seems _too_ interesting."

Shaking his head again, James chuckles. "She's my, er, last resort."

"Why? Is she scary?"

"I... don't really have the best track record when it comes to asking her out."

Ivy's eyes widen and she sits up a little straighter. "You mean you've asked her out before?"

"It was a long time ago," James mutters.

"She turned you down?"

"Brutally."

Ivy grins. "Oh, I hope Sirius tells me how it goes when you ask her this time."

"You really _are_ a Slytherin, aren't you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

James grins. Ivy looks very pleased with herself.

"So," James says after a moment, "I think he'll be a while. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Well." Ivy considers for a moment, then sighs. "Actually, I should probably finish my jog and get home. Mother said she's probably dropping in today."

"Oh, you were jogging?"

"It was more like _walking fast_ , really, but Sirius said jogging sounds better."

"I think that's his definition of jogging," James says, laughing. "Well, if you change your mind..."

"I won't, but if I did I'd let you know," she assures him, getting to her feet.

"I appreciate it."

"Good luck." Ivy grins at him. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," James says, running a hand through his hair. "Let me walk you to the door."

"Sure," says Ivy, leading the way into the hall.

"You should stop by sometime," James adds as he holds the door open for her. "Sometime when we're both here."

Eyes lighting up, Ivy's grin widens. "That would be fun."

"Maybe we could, er, invite Alec too."

Almost out the door, Ivy pauses and peers curiously at him. "Is Alec often here?"

James gives her a wry grin. "Is four times a year often?"

"Oh." Ivy looks a little disappointed. "No, that isn't often."

"I'll have Si look into it," James promises.

"Thank you," replies Ivy, practically beaming again. "But now I really have to run. I mean, walk fast."

"Have fun."

Waving, Ivy gives him a last grin and then sets off briskly down the walk.

_____

Later, the front door bangs against the wall of the hall as Sirius's voice calls out, "Honey, I'm home!"

"Hey," James replies, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. "How's Andromeda?"

"Going crazy," answers Sirius, slipping out of his shoes. "Dora keeps unpacking her things."

"Whatever for?" asks James, walking closer to him. "I thought the little munchkin was excited to go on holiday."

Sirius nods, walking to meet James and reaching out to pull him in for a quick kiss. "She is," he says. "She keeps thinking she's forgot things."

"They're going to the _beach_ ," James chuckles. "What could she forget, her spade and bucket?"

"Honestly? I didn't ask."

"A good thing too, or you might be there still," says James, walking back into the kitchen. "Your girlfriend stopped by while you were out."

"What?" Sirius asks, following him. "My who?"

"Tall girl. Skimpy outfit. Very pink."

"Oh, you mean Ivy."

"Ivy," James nods. "She's, er, special."

"That's one way of putting it," agrees Sirius with a laugh, sitting on the edge of the table. "Did she say what she wanted?"

"Our accountant."

Sirius blinks. Then he laughs. "She's not very subtle."

"Not very," James agrees. "She turned me down, too."

"Er..." Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Come again, love?"

James grins in a rather obnoxious way. "Later."

Sirius grins back, but shakes his head. "What are you talking about, she turned you down? You didn't ask her to the Quidditch annual, did you?"

"Of course I did!"

Sirius shakes his head again, his grin getting faint. "So why did _she_ turn you down?"

"Why, you find that unthinkable?" James asks, winking at him. "I'm irresistible, and all?"

"Except to your female teammates, apparently," shoots back Sirius, looking almost amused.

"They don't count."

"Why not?"

"I'm telling you, Chris wanted to say yes," is James's reply. "And Ivy said no because she wants to be shagging Alec." He wrinkles his nose. "Am I missing something about him?"

Sirius blinks again. "She told you she said no because she wants to be shagging Alec?"

"In so many words." James sighs. "I guess I'll just have to face the angry troll."

"Do we know an angry troll?"

"The angry, redheaded, I-hate-it-when-James-asks-me-out troll," James clarifies.

Sirius stares at him for a moment. "You asked her out _one time_ , James."

"And look how well that went!"

"Yes, well, you're not going to hang Snivellus upside down in front of her before you ask this time, are you?" asks Sirius, dryly.

James furrows his brow. "D'you reckon I'd have more luck if I did?"

Sirius frowns as if thinking the question over. 

Sighing, James shakes his head. "I was really hoping I wouldn't have to ask her, y'know."

Sirius nods. "I know." He pauses, and grins a little. "At least you don't have to ask her right away, though. You've got a few weeks."

"Two!"

"Well, that's better than two days," Sirius replies, shrugging slightly.

James shrugs. "I wish we didn't have to bring a stupid date."

"It can't be _that_ bad, love."

"Hah!"

"It's not like you ever used to have trouble," Sirius points out.

"That's when I was motivated," James mutters. "And not asking out _Evans_."

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "You know," he says off-handedly, "Lils is quite darling. Really."

"You've never asked her out."

"I've never wanted to."

" _I_ don't want to," James says, sighing once more. Then, after a pause, "Didn't you just promise me something?"

Sirius's eyes darken almost immediately. "Did I?" he asks, far too casually.

"I do believe you did."

"Well, I don't go back on a promise, so..." Sirius pauses, to smile wickedly. "Come again upstairs?"

"Now we're talking," James says, his grin matching Sirius's. "After you."

"Yes, that's always how it seems to happen," mutters Sirius, as he heads out of the room.


	45. 23–29 July 1984

**Monday, 23 July 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it really true that Healers don't help Muggles? If so, what do the poor Muggles do when they, say, break a bone or catch Dragon Pox?! /Hypochondriac** Dear Hypo, I, uh, don't think many Muggles catch Dragon Pox. But they do have this thing called "doctors" who do this thing that is incredibly unsettling to watch, but definitely not magic, in order to fix hurt Muggles. So you don't need to worry about them. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What do you smell like? /Nosey** Dear Nosey, Tasty things your mum would warn you about. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My dog is so badly behaved! He'll dig up all my flowerbeds and pee on chairs and jump onto everyone he meets, and I have no idea what to do. Did you ever have these kind of problems with your dog? Do you have any advice? /Barking mad** Dear Barking, No, actually, I'm a very lucky bloke, in that my dog never did any of that when I didn't want him to. As for advice... smack his nose with a rolled up Prophet when he misbehaves? Only not my section. That's disrespectful. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You've talked about how to get boys to like you. How do you get GIRLS to like you? /Single and sad** Dear Sad, You smile (but not in a creepy way). And dress nicely (though not better than they do). And smell good (not overpoweringly so, of course). And ask them to lunch (which is much less threatening than dinner). And listen when they talk (or at least pretend to). Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My child is SUCH a picky eater! I don't mean she won't eat her veggies, or anything like that — she won't eat ANYTHING but raisins, biscuits or breakfast cereal! I'm worried she's about to get scurvy. What can I do? /R** Dear Grantaire, Start making orange biscuits? If you don't want to put your foot down and declare she gets nothing to eat until she starts eating what you put in front of her. Supper is supper and if she doesn't eat it, she doesn't eat anything. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 25 July 2984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What, according to you, is the most attractive physical trait a person can possess? (Personality does not count.) /Shallow** Dear Shallow, A sexy neck. Or else, well... unique... hair. Sirius 

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**Dear Sirius, Would you rather: \- Marry someone you know you didn't love, or watch the love of your life marry someone else? \- Be an Animagus or a Metamorpmagus? \- Have to tell your parents you were gay, or have one of them tell you they were? \- Sing in front of everyone you know, or strip to your underwear in front of everyone you know? \- Only speak the truth, or never talk? \- Never do magic again, or never wear shoes? \- Throw up on your date or have your date throw up on you? \- Only wear pink for the rest of your life or walk around naked in public for one day? \- Cheat on your partner and get away with it, or have everyone think you cheated when you didn't? \- French kiss a man for two minutes or be celibate for a year? /Quentin** Dear Quentin My, that's a long one! Let's see, shall we, how this goes: ~ If you'd asked me five years ago, I would have said marry someone I didn't love; as of a year ago, I'd come to the conclusion that watching the love of my life marry someone else would be easier to handle (at least, I was resigned to it). At the moment, though... I'd really prefer to do neither, thank you. Not just me who'd be hurt, y'see. ~ Oh, darn. Hm. No offense to my darling cousin Dora, but I think Animagus. ~ I think have to tell them that I was — after all, it's not like I could be any _more_ of a disappointment to them. And in all honesty, I really don't need to know that kind of thing about them — especially not my mother, the only one still alive. ~ Strip in front of everyone. My _body's_ not going to embarrass me! ~ Never talk. Not that I like lying, or do it a lot, but sometimes there are just things I *don't* want to say to people. ~ Never wear shoes. I _like_ magic. ~ I would say have my date throw up on me, but then they wouldn't be able to tell the story at parties, so throw up on my date. (I'm generous.) ~ Walk around naked in public! Not that I have anything against pink, or would mind wearing it for a _short_ period of time, but I am not giving up my _blue_ jeans or my black leather, thank you very much. ~ Have everyone think I cheated when I didn't. _I_ would know the truth, that I was innocent, and that would have to be enough. (Well, as long as the person I cheated on wasn't included in the "everyone", anyway.) ~ Pssh, this is the easiest question of them all. Snog a man, all the way. Heh. Sirius 

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**Dear Sirius, My wife and I have such differing sleeping schedules and it's really affecting our marriage! I start work at 7 am every weekday, which means I have to be asleep by 10 or I'm dead at work. My wife, however, works 10 am - 8 pm Tuesday through Sunday, and isn't in bed until the wee hours. I never get a chance to see her, AND she wakes me up when she comes to bed (and vice versa, when I get up)! What should we do? /Tired and Alone** Dear Alone, Get new jobs. Or else start anticipating those little sleeping interruptions and make the most of them, since apparently they're inevitable anyway. Sirius 

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**Dear Sirius, Do you know of any spells to unhook bras? Because I'm just rubbish at it and it's cost me three perfectly good girlfriends and I'm sick of it. /Bryn** Dear Bryn Sadly, I never did find a good spell for that. If you really can't master the skill, and it keeps costing you girlfriends, maybe you should start dating blokes; most of them don't wear bras. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a friend who's really scared of metal cutlery. Isn't this the weirdest phobia ever? /Sane** Dear Sane, Not at all. I once met a girl who was absolutely TERRIFIED of the colour purple. And at least your friend's phobia has nothing to do with socks. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Lily Evans and Remus Lupin  
26 July 1984  
6.33 pm_ **

 

Looking rather like he might be sick on his shoes, James raises his arm to knock on the door... and then lets it drop again.

He paces a little before taking a deep breath and trying again. This time he does manage to rap on the door — weakly, but audiably.

"Yes?" calls a slightly strained voice from within.

"Evans?"

"Potter?" the voice replies, sounding a little surprised. Then, "It's open, come in."

James enters, one hand firmly planted in his hair. "Hello?"

"In here," Lily calls from the living room.

"Is, er, is Remus here?"

Curled in an armchair with her arms around her middle, Lily shakes her head without looking up at James. "No. He's at his parents'."

"Oh," James says, looking oddly relieved. "Why aren't you there?"

"I'm sick."

"You don't look very sick," James says, frowning at her.

Lily lifts her head and raises her eyebrows at James. "I'm... _girl_ sick, Potter."

"Girl si— oh."

"Yeah." Lily drops her head back.

James makes a face, running his hand through his hair again. "Listen, I, er, wanted to talk to you."

"Okay..." After a moment, Lily uncoils one hand from around herself and gestures toward the sofa. "Have a seat."

Sitting down at the very edge, James clears his throat. "Evans," he begins. "Er, Lily."

Lily lifts her head again and stares at him a little oddly. "Er, yes?"

"Lily," James repeats, his left hand firmly planted in his hair. "I, er, was wondering."

Lily looks a little confused. "Wondering?" she repeats.

"If, er, you'd."

"If I'd...?" she questions, still giving him that look like maybe he's going to tell her there's a pink elephant in the room.

James takes a deep breath. "If you'd be my date to the Quidditch annual."

"... what?" Lily looks honestly surprised.

"It's next Friday."

"I know when it is," she assures him, staring.

"Oh," is James's eloquent reply. He has gone rather pale, and is tapping his fingers on his leg restlessly.

Lily just keeps staring. "Why are you asking _me_?" she demands, after a moment.

"Er," says James, looking rather panicked by now. "I tried to ask Clee and Chris and Ivy, but —"

"... _Why_?"

"... because we're required to bring a date?"

"But we're all _women_ ," protests Lily.

James blinks. "Yes...?"

"Don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Well, er, yes...?"

Lily shakes her head, looking confused despite the spasm of pain that crosses her face briefly and causes her to tighten her arms around her midriff. "Why'd Sirius turn you down?"

James blinks. "I didn't ask Sirius." His voice is small, but maybe a bit defensive.

Lily blinks, looking incredulous. "You asked all those women but you didn't ask _your boyfriend_?"

"I don't — people don't _know_ ," James mumbles.

"So tell them," she responds in a practical tone, still looking quite disbelieving. "Tell them, and take Sirius."

James opens his mouth as if to protest. Nothing comes out.

"Problem solved," Lily goes on, as if it's the simplest thing ever. "That's one of the nice things about having a boyfriend."

"... oh."

"... you didn't think about this at all, did you, Potter?"

"I — you know what?" James says, suddenly looking a lot less nervous. "You're right."

Lily grins at him palely. "You shouldn't sound so surprised."

"But you're _right_ ," James repeats. "I don't _want_ to take you."

"Well, thanks," says Lily, rolling her eyes but still grinning.

"Not _you_ you," clarifies James. "You, the collective you."

"You, women you?"

"You, anyone who's not Sirius, you."

Lily's grin gets a little softer. "Smart you, Potter, you."

James stands up, brushing himself off. "If he turns me down, will you be my backup?"

"No." She shakes her head. "But I'm sure Remus will let you sleep on our couch."

"You're so generous and kind, Evans."

"You're so daft and silly, Potter."

James winks at her. "Feel better."

"Thanks." Lily leans her head back and closes her eyes, settling deeper into her chair. "Good luck with the boyfriend you've been ignoring."

"Cheers," James grins as he Disapparates.

Lounging in the living room with his feet on the coffee table, Sirius looks up from the paper he's reading as James appears. "How'd it go with the troll, then?"

His earlier grin nowhere in sight, James shoves his hands into his pockets. "Er. Well. I didn't... I didn't really ask her."

"You didn't? Why not?" Sirius asks, raising one eyebrow.

"I was going to, I mean, I kind of did, but she..." James breaks off, one of his hands wandering from his pocket to his hair. "I can't do this anymore, Si."

Sirius looks confused for a moment. "Wha—" he starts to say, but then stops and pales, his eyes widening. The newspaper crackles sharply, and he quickly drops it in his lap.

James, however, doesn't even seem to notice. "I don't want to take some fake date to the annual. I want —"

Sirius's mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he finds his voice and interrupts, rather hoarsely, "Of— of course you wouldn't."

"— I want to take _you_."

Sirius's mouth opens again, but this time it stays that way. "You..." he mumbles after a moment, still wide-eyed and pale-faced, sounding a bit bewildered.

"I mean," James hurries to add, finally noticing Sirius's confusion, "I understand if you're not ready to tell all our peers and well, the world really, but as Evans pointed out, you are my boyfriend and I really ought to ask you before I ask every woman I know —"

"You _want_ to take me?" demands Sirius, in an even hoarser voice.

"Yeah," James nods, ignoring whatever else he was going to say. "If you want to come."

"James—" Whatever else Sirius was going to say catches in his throat.

"... you don't have to," James says, completely misinterpretating his tone of voice. "I mean, it's all right."

"No." Sirius shakes his head sharply. "No, I—"

Flashing him a rather weak grin, James shakes his head. "It's all right. At least I've asked, yeah?"

" _No_ ," protests Sirius, suddenly shoving the paper from his lap and standing. "I, I will— But I thought you didn't want to take me."

James gapes at him. "What made you — " He breaks off. "Oh."

Sirius just stands there, his rather too-bright eyes on James, and stares back at him.

"I didn't think," James admits, in half a voice. "But of course I want to take you."

Sirius stares for another half a second, then steps forward and says in something of a rush, "James... James, all of _my_ friends _know_ already."

"But you co-workers don't," James argues half-heartedly. "Your readers don't." He pauses. "Your family doesn't."

"Most of my co-workers think we've been shagging each other for years," corrects Sirius. "My readers don't even know _me_." He takes another step forward. "And _you_ are my family."

James's mouth forms an 'o'. No sound comes out.

"You are _everything_ , love," Sirius adds, in a whisper, looking earnest and bewildered. " _Why_ would you think I wouldn't want to go with you? That I wouldn't want to tell _everyone_?"

"... please stop before I embarrass myself."

"James..." Sirius shrugs helplessly, the expression on his face as intense as that in his voice. "... _Of course_ I'll go to the annual with you."

James grins, somewhat shakily. "Yeah?"

Sirius smiles slightly. "You really think I'd wait seven years for someone who I wasn't going to let take me out in public?"

"Apparently," James says, taking a step closer to him, "it's what boyfriends are for."

"Did you just work that out now?" asks Sirius, lifting a hand to wind in James's hair.

"Give me a break," James mutters. "You're the first one I've had, you know."

Sirius's smile brightens a watt or two. "Yeah, but this is hardly the first time you've been one..."

"And look how well I did those times."

"You might have done better," Sirius murmurs, drawing James's head forward 'til their lips are almost touching, "if you hadn't let your best friend be mean all the time."

"I might have done better, had I not preferred my best friend to all of them," James whispers back. 

"I'm glad you did," and Sirius kisses him.

James kisses him back, then pulls back slightly, smiling softly. "So, it's a date?"

"Yes," nods Sirius. "Good thing I'm free, right?"

"Boyfriends don't date other people," James points out.

Sirius's brows arch. "But they can non-date?"

"If they make it up to their boyfriends."

"Oh, I like that." Sirius drops a kiss at the corner of James's mouth, then moves to drop one on the side of his neck. "There are other things a boyfriend is for, you know..."

"Oh yeah?" James asks, tilting his head back a little. "Like what?"

"Well..." The hand not in James's hair goes to his waist, pulling him forward so his hips meet Sirius's. "Getting rid of _this_."

"In a pleasant way, I should hope," James replies, grinning. "Or d'you want me to get ice cubes?"

"Stop being clever," complains Sirius, against James's neck. "Use that mouth for something else."

"Like an apology?"

"No." Sirius lifts his head. "Like this," and he kisses James again.

* * *

**Friday, 27 July 1984**

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**Dear Sirius, Don't you think today's young generation is just out of control? They're loud and promiscuous and rude to their elders. Have you noticed this? I say bring back the Cruciatus as a parental tool. Anyone in favour? /Ellerie** Dear Ellerie, ... Ouch. Ma'am, while I may agree that the youth of today lack a certain something when it comes to respect — which youth always do, because they're youth — I'd have to disagree bringing the Cruciatus back into vogue. It's just a little too... _mean_ for my tastes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am currently dating two different women (shut up) and they're very different. One of them is really funny and smart and great, and I love spending time with her, but the physical aspect of our relationship is just... bad. The other girl, on the other hand, is as dumb as a doornail but amazing in bed. It's getting to the point where I'm really worried they'll find out about each other, so I'm thinking I should probably choose one to stick with. Which one would you pick in my situation, and why? /Greg** Dear Stupidhead, So, essentially, you're choosing between great sex, and a great _person_? Seriously, mate — even _I_ don't think sex is _that_ important. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My sister recently told me something very disturbing. According to her, women hardly ever wear matching underwear! Surely she can't be correct? All the ladies I've seen in pictures and Muggle television have had on knickers that matched their brassieres. What is the truth, here? /Unbelieving** Dear Unbeliever, Almost all of the women I've ever seen practically-starkers were wearing matching underwear... but since most of them were, er, expecting me to be, er, inspecting it, the matchingness was probably deliberate. I don't think I'm really qualified to speculate on whether women usually — meaning other than when they've got dates with me — dress like that, but I would imagine it must be really annoying, to always go matching knickers to bra all the time. Sirius 

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**Dear Sirius, What one thing in your life would you find the hardest to give up? /Chocoholic** Dear Chocoholic, James. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am going to Hogwarts this September and I am really scared. Do they really make you fight a troll to sort you? And stick you in Hufflepuff if you don't do well? Also, my brothers say that all the first years have to sleep on the floor. Why? /Patrick** Dear Pat, No need to be scared mate; it's Hogwarts! They only make the really big lads fight trolls, and you only go in Hufflepuff if you take the troll's side. Also, I think the only house where the first years have to sleep on floor is Slytherin... In Gryffindor they give you really cool four-poster beds. Sirius  
---


	46. 30 July–5 August 1984

**Monday, 30 July 1984**

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**Dear Sirius, Why do girls only like bad boys? I am a very nice man but all the women I meet only want to be my friend! It makes me feel quite cheated, as I put all this time and effort into befriending them and it never leads anywhere. Should I just stop being nice and start being a prick instead? /Sick of being rejected** Dear Sick, Oh, I don't think you need to _start_ being a prick — your question pretty much proves you've got that down. It sounds like your problem isn't that you're a nice guy, it's that you're _pretending_ to be a Nice Guy in order to get close to women, to be their friend. Then, you get pissed when they don't want to have sex with you (generally regarded as a friendship-breaker, something they'd want to avoid if you're really a very _nice_ friend), which is really pretty irrational on your part — but I guess if you were being rational to begin with, you wouldn't be in this situation at all. What you need to do is start acting like yourself, stop making an _effort_ to be nice solely so they'll like you, and make it clear, _from the very beginning_ , that you're after _action_ , not the sidelines. Of course, I'm not sure this approach will work for you either, since you seem kind of deceitful and manipulative — which are generally not traits women want in, well, _anything_ — but it'd be more honest, which should almost always be a good thing. Good luck with your skewed view of how relationships work! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Would you ever date an ugly person? /Hal** Dear Hal, Are we talking ugly on the surface? Of course. But ugly on the inside? Not if I actually knew they were, no. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you reckon one goes about becoming a teacher at Hogwarts? I reckon I'd be pretty good at teaching Potions. /Ursule** Dear Ursule, I reckon you've got to apply with the board of governors, or possibly just beg Headmaster Dumbledore and have him arrange everything. Or maybe you should start by offing the current Potions Master...? Sirius PS: I'm kidding. No, really, I swear. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think I love you. Will you marry me? /Athara** Dear Athara, Aw, thank you, my dear, but I'm afraid we don't have the necessary foundation for that kind of relationship. Maybe you should find someone who you, er, know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm having this argument with my brother and we were wondering if you could help us sort it out. Are bananas fruits or vegetables? I say fruit, he says vegetable. Which one is it? /Poppy** Dear Poppy, Actually (and I looked this up, so don't scoff), you're both wrong. Bananas are... Ready for this? _Berries_. Didn't see that one coming, did you? Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 1 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you aware that some of your answers come across as rather homoerotic in their nature? Just thought I'd let you know. /Kenneth** Dear Kenneth, Really? Only some of them? Clearly, I need to try harder. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you reckon it's dangerous to eat large quantities of parchment? /Concerned** Dear Concerned, Well, parchment isn't part of any food group I've ever heard of, so probably. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a bit of a problem. See, I fancy this girl, yeah, but she fancies my best mate, who's in love with this bird who happens to be my girlfriend. I don't really know how to go around solving this. Any helpful tips? /Donny** Dear Don, A foursome? Sorry, unhelpful. Uh, perhaps break up with your girlfriend — since you fancy someone else, anyway — so that your best mate can go out with her, which will hopefully convince the bird you fancy to give up on him, which'd leave her open for you...? Or else you could just content yourselves with a really screwy love-square. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is there any trick to stop being in love with someone? A potion, spell, hex even? I'm willing to try anything and I don't care if it's painful because it can't be any worse than it already is. /Unrequited** Dear Unrequited, You have no idea how much I really wish I could tell you something that would help you, but I can't — and believe me, I've looked for such a trick. I'm sorry. Maybe you could just... not spend any time around this person? (It's a weak suggestion, I know; it did f-- all for me, too. Or, well, it would have, if I'd actually been able to stay away.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your favourite Unforgivable? /Igor** Dear Igor, Ooh, the Imperius, of course. But I wouldn't use it for what you're thinking. (Well, unless you know me — then I definitely _would_.) Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 3 August 1984**

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**Dear Sirius, My significant other is SO BOSSY! Not in a mean way, just a very... bossy way, always telling me what to do, how do to it, when... How can I get her to stop being so pushy? I have a will of my own, you know! /Sadie** Dear Sadie, Well, since you don't _like_ the bossiness, maybe you should just _tell_ her? "You know, I _am_ an adult, and you're starting to make me feel like you think maybe I'm a five-year old. Could you tone down the telling me what to do, please?" Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My name is Keavy (I'm Irish). My fiance is called Stephen but insists on going by Stevie. I'm thinking about breaking up with him if he doesn't start going by something else. Even Steve would be fine! How can I make him see that Keavy and Stevie just sounds too dumb for words? /Rhyme** Dear Keav, Okay, hold on, let me get this straight. You're thinking of breaking up with a man you agreed to marry over something completely superficial, and you think _rhyming names_ is too dumb for words? Seriously, woman; if it bothers you that bloody much, why don't _you_ get a nickname? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am only attracted to bald men. Is there something wrong with me? /Alice, aged 19** Dear Alice, Of course not. You just have a weird — but rather innocent — fetish. Happens to all of us. Nothing to worry about, there. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are dropbears real? /Worried** Dear Worried, I can't be sure. I mean, I've never been killed by a marsupial falling out of a tree onto my head, but then, I've never been to Australia either. Maybe they are... just like American Snipe. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, A friend of mine recently told me he's gay and I'm having issues with it. It's not that I mind him being gay, it's just that I don't believe him when he says he is! He's very masculine and has never showed any kind of queer characteristics. Do you think he could just be making this up for attention? /Sebastian** Dear Seb, Er, I suppose he _could_ be, but really, why would he? There are much more normal ways to get attention, like threatening to hurt himself, or never wearing clothes, or something. And really, who defines "queer characteristics", anyway? Because, let me tell you, I know a pretty bloody _straight_ gay man or two. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_309th Annual British and Irish Quidditch League Banquet  
3 August 1984  
8.17 pm_ **

"I'm _hungry_ ," announces Christine, her fingers tapping an uneven rhythm on the table top, directly over one of the gold stars on the purple tablecloth. "And James is going to be late, _again_."

"Probably still trying to find a date," Cliodhna mutters under her breath.

"D'you think the redhead turned him down, then?" Christine asks, while leaning around her date to peer at the door.

"Probably," answers Cliodhna, turning slightly to give her date an angry glare.

The man next to her is staring very intently at the two bleached blonde women on the other side of the table. Neither of them have noticed, being too busy glaring at each other through smiles so sweet they look likely to send someone into sugar-shock at any moment.

Unlike Cliodhna, Christine is not paying any attention to this, since her date isn't staring at anything but his empty plate. "I still don't understand it, you know," she mutters to the Seeker.

"Hrm?"

"Why he didn't want a date." Christine glances briefly at _her_ silent date. "Everyone wants a date."

Playing with her fork, Cliodhna begins, "Who knows why James does the things he d—"

Also staring at the door, Christine's eyes widen slightly at the same moment Cliodhna's voice dies. "... he brought _Black_?"

Cliodhna is blinking rather rapidly and Christine can't take her eyes away from where James and Sirius are making their way across the room.

"I'm guessing the redhead _did_ turn him down," Cliodhna says, once she picks her jaw off the floor. "Along with the rest of the female population."

"The world is _crazy_ ," decides Christine.

Cliodhna just shakes her head, raising her eyebrows as the two men reach the table. "Hello."

"Sorry I'm late," James says, nodding at her. "Clee. Chris."

"James," replies Christine, managing not to stare now that the two men are closer. "And, er, Black?"

"Hullo," replies Sirius, with a bright grin.

"Hi," Cliodhna says, rather hesitantly.

Sirius glances between her and Christine. His grin widens a fraction. "You two all right? You look a bit startled."

"Fine," replies Cliodhna automatically.

"Roan, you've met Si," James continues, ignoring the weird looks he's getting as he sits down opposite Cliodhna. "Si, this is Roan's wife Amy," with a nod at the woman sitting next to Christine. "Phil and Paul, our Beaters," indicating the men to his own left, "and... their lovely dates."

Said lovely dates take a moment from grimacing at each other to flash appreciative smiles at Sirius, as the Beaters give him identical impassive looks along with their "Hello"s.

James takes a deep breath. "This is Sirius Black." He pauses. "My boyfriend."

Christine squeaks. Cliodhna's fork clatters onto the table top. "What?" she blurts out.

James just grins at her.

Sirius's grin is even wider.

" _Boyfriend_?" repeats Christine, also rather squeakily.

"Boyfriend," James confirms. He glances over at the two Beaters to judge what their reaction is, but quickly turns back to Christine when realising they've already stopped paying attention. "What?"

"Er." Christine is trying to look like she's not gaping at them. "Er, well— I guess that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why you keep him around."

James snorts. "Aren't you going to introduce your dates?"

Shaking herself out of her daze, Christine gestures to the man next to her — who has stopped staring at his plate, though he hasn't said anything yet. "This is Ludlow."

"And this is Quinlan," Cliodhna says, jabbing her elbow into the ribs of the man next to her. There is no apparent effect.

"Does Quinlan not know that it's rude to stare at other women in front of your date?" Sirius inquires innocently, while finally sitting in the empty chair next to James.

"Good question," Cliodhna mumbles. "So. This is a surprise."

"What, that your date has horrid manners?"

Ignoring him, Cliodhna turns to James. "You could have told us, you know."

"At least when you were asking us to be your date tonight," agrees Christine.

"Er." James looks rather sheepish. "I already made it up to him, don't make me make it up to you too."

Christine gives a displeased little sniff. James shrugs, then glances around the table again. "Where's Will?"

"Later than you," Christine replies, still looking less than pleased. "And if he walks in with his roommate, I think I will scream."

Cliodhna snorts.

Sirius leans closer to James and whispers, "I told you they wouldn't be happy to see me."

Before James has a chance to reply, Cliodhna looks over his shoulder and exclaims "There you are!" 

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Will mumbles, pushing his date forward and kicking out a chair for her. "Slight misunderstanding."

"Really?" asks Christine. "You're _thirty minutes late_."

Looking oddly proud of himself, Will just shrugs. "Hey, Potter, where's your date?"

"Do you not see the man sitting next to him?"

Will blinks. "Black?"

"Hi, Will," greets a grinning Sirius, with a very small wave.

"... you're Potter's date?"

"Well, I was when we left the house..."

"Boyfriend," clarifies Cliodhna.

" _James's_ ," adds Christine, just to be sure he gets it.

"Huh." Will pauses for a moment, glancing at his date. "More female fans for me, then. Excellent." He pats Sirius on the shoulder. 

"Glad to be useful," replies Sirius, obviously smothering laughter.

Christine rolls here eyes, but it looks like she's trying not to smile "Do we get an introduction?" she asks, changing the subject.

"Hm? Oh, this is Delphine," Will says, turning to face his date again. "French. Doesn't speak English."

Delphine smiles cheerfully at everyone.

"Nice one," James mumbles. "Oh, food!"

"Excellent," exclaims Ludlow.

"So he does talk," Cliodhna mumbles, rolling her eyes.

Christine is giving her date a disbelieving look.

"... just so you know," James whispers to Sirius as he helps himself to some potatoes, "I am very glad I'm here with you."

"Because I talk?" Sirius whispers back, putting a steak on his plate while watching Ludlow load his own plate with rather impressive speed.

"Yes," James replies, nodding. "That, and because I love you."

"I know," says Sirius, shifting his free hand to James's leg and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Awwwww," Cliodhna says. James gives her a look. She flushes slightly, busying herself with the gravy.

Christine has paused in the middle of dishing herself some green beans and is staring at Sirius. "You're rather sweet," she says.

"... him or me?" asks James.

"Black," she clarifies, a green bean falling off the serving spoon and landing on the tablecloth next to her plate.

Sirius eyes her a little uneasily.

"Say thank you," James says, nudging him with his elbow.

"Thank you?" Sirius makes it sound like a question.

Christine's eyes shift to James. "Okay," she allows, clearly grudgingly, "the fribble's a very _nice_ wedding dress."

"I know," James says, looking rather smug.

"... I'm not sure which part of that to demand an explanation for," says Sirius, glancing from Christine to Cliodhna and then to James.

"I promise I'll explain later," James says, patting Sirius's hand slightly. "Pass me the tomatoes, yeah?"

"Okay." Still giving the two women dubious looks, Sirius passes him the dish of tomatoes.

"Those look good," remarks Ludlow.

".... they're tomatoes," says James.

"Really?" Ludlow sounds surprised — or possibly impressed.

Christine gives her date another patently incredulous look. "Remind me to thank Candice for this."

James bites his lip.

Ludlow looks momentarily confused. "Thank your sister for what?"

"This," replies Christine. " _You_."

"Isn't this _fun_ ," James says, just as one of the bleached blondes next to him start shouting rather shrilly at each other.

Sirius transfers his stare to them. "I had no idea it was possible to say 'like' that frequently in one sentence."

"Aren't you glad you came, eh?"

"Thrilled," Sirius assures him, as the other bleached blonde responds by tossing a pea down the front of the first one's dress.

Christine apparently thinks this is a good enough excuse to behave similarly, as she grabs a corn kernel and tosses it at the side of Cliodhna's date's head. He doesn't even notice. Christine glares at him, then blinks in surprise when another kernel hits him.

Sirius grins at her when she turns her head.

Before James can react to this, he's interrupted by a rather scruffy-looking man appearing behind Christine.

"Sirius?" he asks, scratching at his rather bushy beard.

Sirius transfers his grin to the newcomer. "Tony," he greets cheerfully.

"How did you manage an invite to this affair, dear boy?" asks the man, as he takes a step closer to the table.

His generous belly pokes the back of Cliodhna's head.

"I didn't," replies Sirius. He throws an arm around James's shoulders. "I'm with him."

Tony blinks.

Sirius is looking at James now. "You've met the Prophet's senior sports guy, right, love?"

"Um," James says. "Probably?"

"Anthony DeMarco," Sirius supplies, gesturing in the newcomer's general direction, as he transfers his gaze again. "D'you remember James, Tony?"

"Potter," nods Tony. "Yes, I know." He still looks rather confused.

"Black is James's date," Christine puts in helpfully.

"Oh." Tony blinks again. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise."

"James's _boyfriend_ ," Sirius clarifies brightly.

"I say," Tony says, eyes bulging slightly. "You've been keeping secrets, young man!"

Sirius fairly beams at the older man. "Oh, you've no idea."

Tony scratches at his beard again. "Hm."

"Besides," Sirius adds, catching the stare on Christine's face and shrugging, "You've never asked."

"You know," Tony says, staring at James now, "Lilith is here somewhere..."

"Oh." Sirius blinks once, then glances a bit uncertainly at James. "Of course she is."

"Would you mind if we ran a feature?" asks Tony, his belly pushing more than ever on the back of Cliodhna's head. "I have a feeling it's something our readers would appreciate."

"Well..." Sirius eyes James again.

"Sure," says James, sounding slightly less than thrilled. "You don't mind, do you?" he adds, turning to look at Sirius.

" _James_ ," Sirius says, quite pointedly. "Of course not."

"All right," nods James, turning back to Tony. "Only don't let that Skeeter woman write it."

"Yes, definitely not Skeeter," agrees Sirius, his expression faintly surprised. "I'm familiar with her own, special version of 'the truth'."

"I'll write it myself," says Tony, nodding earnestly. "Unless you want to do it."

"I don't think anyone would want to publish it if I did it," Sirius admits.

"Why, what would you say?" asks Cliodhna, leaning forward so far that her breasts are nearly in her food in order to escape from Tony's stomach.

"Um," Sirius's eyes trail down James's face, neck and shoulders before he looks back up at the others. "Well, the Prophet's a family publication, you know."

".... say no more," says Tony, finally leaning back a little. "Ah, I can see Lilith over by the Puddlemere table — let me go fetch her."

With that, he scurries off.

Christine doesn't even glance after him, instead staring at Sirius, who is still leering at James. "So?" she demands.

"Chrissie," Cliodhna hisses.

"What?" says Christine defensively. "I want to know what he'd write."

"... how much have you had to drink?" James asks.

Christine lifts her half-full glass up to eye level and regards it seriously for a moment. "Oh, er— Two glasses of wine?" she replies, a little uncertainly. Then, "You were awfully late, you know."

"Not as bad as those two," James says, indicating Will and Delphine, who are feeding each other grapes. 

"No," agrees Christine. She sets her glass back down and peers at Sirius again. " _Well_?"

Arm still around James's shoulder, Sirius leans forward a little and meets her eyes, grinning wickedly. "You really want to know?"

"Si," James says, sounding vaguely nervous.

Eyes widening at James's tone, Christine nods quickly. "Oh, yes, really."

"Really," Cliodhna agrees, all thoughts of shutting Christine up apparently forgotten.

Dropping his arm from James's shoulders, Sirius leans even closer. "Well, for starts, I think I'd start with how he talks when—"

"Here come Tony and Lilith," James interrupts. Very, very loudly.

"Oh," says Sirius, glancing up. "Right."

"Here we are," Tony says, managing to bump into the back of Christine's head this time around. "Lilith, work your magic."

Christine squeaks indignantly, managing to startle Ludlow into briefly abandoning his dinner.

"Right," the plumpish woman with the camera is saying, bored eyes on Sirius and James. "So what exactly am I going for here?"

"Just get a snapshot of the happy couple here," Tony instructs. "Sirius, my boy, put your arm back around him."

James looks slightly pained. Sirius glances at him before, very gently, doing as Tony suggests.

"Oh, lovely," says Lilith, in the same flat voice as before. She lifts the camera and clicks the shutter a couple of times. "Maybe if Potter didn't look sick, Tony..."

Coughing slightly, James attempts a smile.

"Better," mutters Lilith, clicking again. She moves a few steps to the side and takes another picture.

Sirius chuckles. "James," he says, leaning in so his lips brush James's ear and whispering, "I love you, remember?"

James's face softens.

The shutter of Lilith's camera clicks frantically. "Oh, _perfect_!"

"I think that's enough," Tony announces. "We're running a feature, not a special."

"Right," replies Lilith, lowering her camera with just a bit of reluctance. "They make a great shot, though."

"Quite," Tony agrees. "I say, is that Fiona Mills sitting with Raybert Randall over there?"

Lilith's head spins around. "Yes," she says, raising her camera and taking a step in that direction at the same time. "Yes, it definitely is."

"I smell a scoop," Tony says, nearly bouncing on his heels. "Quick, Lilith, before they dash off —"

"On it," she replies, quickly moving away.

"Tony has a thing for scoops," Sirius murmurs, into the side of James's neck.

"I figured," James mumbles back. "So."

Dropping a kiss just beneath James's jaw, Sirius straightens and turns to his coworker. "That be all, then, Tony?"

"Quite all," Tony says, nodding. "And congratulations." With that, he wobbles off after Lilith.

"Is he always like that?" asks Christine, wrinkling her nose a little.

"Quite pushy," Cliodhna agrees.

"He smells like stale cake," Christine declares.

Ludlow looks up from his plate. "Cake?"

"No cake yet," James says, shaking his head. "Reckon that'll do it?" he asks, turning back to Sirius.

"Probably," says Sirius. "Not like anyone'll be able to misinterpret that last photo, right?"

"I should hope not," James says, leaning in to brush his lips quickly across Sirius's. "I don't let just anyone do that to me in public, y'know."

Cliodhna makes an _awww_ -ing noise.

"You two are _disgustingly_ sweet," mutters Christine, in the voice of someone discovering a secret they don't know what to make of.

"Sweets?" asks Ludlow.

"Not yet," replies Sirius, rolling his eyes.


	47. 6–12 August 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda is not impressed.

**Monday, 6 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Hahahahhahah that was a brilliant prank! Who came up with it, you or James? /Spyke** Dear Spyke, Assuming you're referring to the feature the Prophet ran this weekend, regarding my relationship with James, it wasn't a prank. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm so happy for you!! Are you getting married? Do you think you will have babies? /Alanna** Dear Alanna, Thank you! We're very happy for us, too. Marriage and babies are not in our plans for the immediate future, thought. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you aware of the consequences this might have? Did you stop to think before preening your abnormalities around in front of the whole country? Have you thought about what signals this could send to our already troubled youths? /Concerned parent** Dear Parent, Consequences? Signals? What, such as, I don't know, making our "troubled youths" think it's all right to be themselves and love whoever they want to? I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a bad thing. Sirius PS: There is nothing abnormal about James, thank you very much. Except for his mad Quidditch skills, of course, but I don't think you were talking about those. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I KNEW IT! Why didn't you tell us sooner? /Gabby** Dear Gabby, Well, we were kind of enjoying keeping it to ourselves. In our own little world, so to speak. But congratulations on being right! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is James Potter realy queer? I did not think any Quidittch players are. /Alun** Dear Alun, If he isn't, he hides it really well. And I don't see what being a Quidditch player has to do with being queer. Last time I checked, they were neither connected nor mutually exclusive. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
6 August 1984  
5.42 pm_ **

Sitting on the sofa in his living room, Sirius tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes at the television, where something large, multi-coloured and flashy is taking up the screen. "No," he mumbles to himself after a moment, "that doesn't help."

Un-tilting his head, he leans forward and to the side. "... no, that doesn't, either."

"What're you watching?" asks James, walking in through the porch door. "Looks weird."

"Hang on." Sirius, twisting around so that his head is practically upside down, says, "... no, that's no help."

"... you look like an owl."

Sirius ignores him. He straightens up and settles back against the couch. "You know, I have no idea what this is supposed to be."

"Turn it off, then," James says, jumping over the back of the sofa and landing next to him.

"I'm trying to figure it out," explains Sirius, frowning slightly at the television set. "This barmy woman came on and announced that there was going to be 'a message from their sponsors' and the next thing I know there was this... this technicolour explosion all over my telly."

"Probably for drugs," mumbles James, leaning into Sirius. "Turn it off."

Sirius shakes his head, still frowning. "But this is my _infomercial_ channel. They're _entirely_ a message from their sponsors."

"Very odd," James agrees, snaking an arm around Sirius's shoulders. "Turn it off."

"Once I figure it out," says Sirius.

"Or now," says James, turning to nuzzle Sirius's neck.

"Oh." Sirius blinks, one of the hands in his lap flexing a little and moving over to rest on James's thigh. Then, he frowns at the screen again. "But then I wouldn't know."

"Does it matter?"

"I... like knowing?"

"Si," James says, as he trails his lips up the other man's neck, stopping to nip on his earlobe, "Turn it off."

Sirius's fingers tighten on James's thigh. "Er."

"C'mon."

"But—"

" _But,_ " James interrupts, bringing his free hand up to Sirius's cheek. "It's not important," he says as he turns Sirius's face away from the TV and towards his own. "Is it?"

Staring, Sirius licks his lips. "Uh, no. No, it is not."

Grinning, James leans in to kiss him.

Lifting the hand not on James's leg, Sirius tangles it in the other man's hair, pulling him closer and immediately deepening the kiss. With a small, satisfied noise, James uses his wand to turn off the TV.

"You smell like grass," Sirius mutters, into James's mouth, shifting his hand higher up James's leg.

"Sorry," James mumbles back.

A rather loud thump comes from somewhere in the room.

Sirius pulls his head away slightly. "Did you hear that?"

"Hmm," James mumbles, shifting slightly to attach his lips to Sirius's neck instead.

"Guess not," gasps Sirius, tilting his head to give James more room and moaning softly.

A faint 'pop' noise comes from outside, followed by rapid footsteps and even more rapid knocking on the front door.

Sirius doesn't seem to notice. "Mm, love—" he starts, before a shriek from the direction of the front door interrupts him.

"Sirius ORION!"

Sirius startles, fairly leaping away from James and swiveling wide eyes around the room.

James groans, his head falling back. "Are those the dulcet tones of miss Andromeda I hear?"

"I didn't do it!" Sirius blurts, before realising that James has asked him a question. Taking a deep breath, he replies, "Yes," just as the knocking resumes.

"If you're in there, Sirius Orion, you had better open this door right now or _so help me Phineas_ , I will—"

Sirius stares at James for a moment. "I haven't heard that tone since I was twelve and got ink all over her best dress robes," he half-whispers.

James mutters something that sounds suspiciously like it includes the words "boner shrinker".

"D'you think she'll go away if we're really quiet?" asks Sirius.

"Hah!"

"Didn't think so," Sirius sighs. Reluctantly standing up, he hollers "We're not home!"

James makes a noise that's half groan, half chuckle.

"Your voice is!" Andromeda yells back from the other side of the door, but the knocking stops.

"And _your_ voice is angry," Sirius mutters to himself.

"Good luck?" James offers, still seated.

"You had better be on your way to the door to let me in," proclaims Andromeda, still loudly.

"I am, I am!" Sirius quick-steps the last few feet to the door and wrenches it open.

Andromeda slams a newspaper into his chest in greeting.

Sirius switches his stare back and forth between her face and the newspaper. "... Andi?"

"Hello, Sirius."

He looks even more confused by her coldness. "Hello...?"

"I read the paper," she informs him.

"Congratulations?" he tries.

"According to this," Andromeda says, shoving the paper at him again, " _I_ should be saying that to _you_."

"Er..." Sirius blinks and looks uneasy. "Did it say I was getting married? Because you should know by now that I totally—"

"You know perfectly well what it says, Sirius!"

"Actually, I have no idea what it says, if it's made you ma—"

"Oh, don't start with me!" Andromeda half-shouts, storming past him and into the hall, uninvited.

Sirius turns and follows her, absently catching the newspaper before it can drop from his chest. "Okay..."

Completely ignoring James, Andromeda drops down into an armchair in the living room. "I can't believe you sometimes, you know that?" she says, still speaking very loudly.

"I haven't said anything about hippogriffs today," Sirius mumbles defensively, going back to sit next to James.

"I thought we _told_ each other things," Andromeda continues. "I told _you_ I was _pregnant_ before I even told _Ted_!"

Sirius gives her another confused stare, for about half a second, before his eyes widen. "Oh, shit."

"Er," James says, moving to stand. "I just remembered I have to —"

Andromeda waves an impatient hand at him before turning her full attention back to Sirius. "Oh, shit?"

"Uh." Sirius quickly pulls the paper up and flips through it, eventually stopping at something and wincing. "Oops."

" _Oops_?"

"I..." Sirius clears his throat, still looking at the paper. "Forgot you didn't know?"

Andromeda fixes him with a stare. Sirius gulps.

"How does one _forget_ something like that, Sirius?"

"Well, I've never exactly tried to _hide_ it from you..."

"You didn't tell me!" Andromeda interrupts. "You told _all of Britain_ before you told me!"

Sirius gulps again. "... you were out of the country?"

Andromeda narrows her eyes. "Are you telling me this happened within the last three weeks?"

"Telling Britain did?" he tries, weakly.

"Not helping," she advices.

Sirius grimaces. "Well, what was I supposed to say?"

Standing up, Andromeda snatches the paper from him. She flickers through it rather violently. Sirius watches her warily.

"Andi?"

"'Pride of Portree Chaser James Potter and the Evening Prophet's own Sirius Black,'" Andromeda reads, pausing to glare at him once more, "'showed up to the event together and exclusively confirmed that they are indeed an item.'"

"... so, what, you wanted 'exclusive confirmation' first?" asks Sirius, still grimacing.

"'According to an anonymous source, the relationship goes back several years,'" Andromeda continues.

"What!" shrieks Sirius, lurching off the couch to snatch the paper. "No way it says that!"

"There is a picture of you groping him!" Andromeda shoots back.

Sirius points at the picture. "That's not groping. That is _snuggling_. We've done that _in your living room_."

"Not helping!"

"You've _watched_ us do that!"

"Sirius," Andromeda says.

Sirius sighs, deflating a bit. "... anyway, it's not years."

"Is it three weeks?"

"Er, a bit more?"

"How much more?"

"... how much more is November from three weeks ago?"

Andromeda blinks.

"The middle of November," Sirius adds, slightly less sheepish, cringe still visible on his face. "Not the beginning."

"I've seen you since November," Andromeda informs him.

"It... never came up?"

She just looks at him.

Sirius eyes her warily. "... I'm sorry?"

"Whatever."

"It's not like I was specifically trying to _hide_ it from you," he mutters defensively.

"Whatever," Andromeda repeats. "Congratulations."

Sirius doesn't relax, at all. "You don't really sound congratulatory."

"I'm happy for you," Andromeda says. "It makes sense."

Sirius opens and closes his mouth several times. He doesn't seem to know what to say. Andromeda keeps her eyes fixed on him.

"... Does that mean you're not actually _surprised_?" Sirius eventually asks, a bit hesitantly.

"I'm surprised you didn't _tell me_ ," Andromeda snaps. "That sort of overshadowed any other surprise I might have felt."

Sirius cringes again. "Andi, I swear, I honestly just forgot you didn't already know."

"Oh, you were telling so many people you lost track, were you?"

"No," he says quickly. "Until... _that_ —" he gestures toward the picture in the paper, "— we hadn't hardly told anyone."

Andromeda seems to mull this over. "Don't keep me in the dark anymore, boy."

Sirius's mouth immediately contorts into a petulant frown. "Don't _call_ me that."

"Good," Andromeda nods.

"Good," echos Sirius. After a pause, he asks, "Did Dora read it?"

"Like I let my child near that rag," Andromeda scoffs. "No offense."

Sirius waves her off. "So, she doesn't know yet?"

"Sirius, she's _ten_. I doubt she cares."

He gives her a disbelieving look, complete with raised eyebrows. "We are speaking about the same child, aren't we?"

"Well, if _you_ want to have the birds and bees talk with her..."

"No!" Sirius's expression instantly mutates to one of horror. "No, no, absolutely not, I'm good."

Andromeda snorts.

"Only," Sirius goes on hurriedly, "she _was_ the one pestering me about kids. And getting married. And, er. Things."

"Yes, well, I don't think she's quite got the mechanics figured out, as it were."

Sirius looks relieved. "Good. You're, er, going to keep it that way, right?"

"What, forever?"

"Well, until she's thirty-five, at least?"

"... have you been talking to Ted?" Andromeda asks.

Sirius brightens slightly. "Ted thinks so too?"

One of the corners of Andromeda's mouth twitches slightly. "He keeps talking about some weird Muggle invention. Shopgun, or something."

"... A shotgun?"

"That's the one. And a rocking chair, and a porch... never mind we don't have either of those things..."

"I could build you one," Siriius offers, grinning. "After you put in the moat, I mean."

"Don't think you can deter me from being mad at you."

"Is that what I was trying to do?" he asks innocently.

Andromeda scoffs again. "You're still doing it!"

"... would it help if I groveled?"

"Don't bother," Andromeda says, standing up. "I'll get over it."

"I really am sorry, you know," Sirius avers, standing as well.

"I can tell," Andromeda says, nodding. "Can you go get James for me, please?"

"...why?"

"Because I asked you to."

"You're not going to yell at him, are you?" asks Sirius, as he starts backing out of the room.

Andromeda blinks. "Of course not."

"All right then." Sirius turns and leaves, calling James's name.

"... what?" James replies, sounding less than thrilled.

"Andi wants you!"

A few moments later, James appears in the doorway. His hand is firmly planted in his hair. Striding past Sirius, Andromeda walks up to him and engulfs him in a hug. James, looking more than a little surprised, somewhat awkwardly pats her on the back.

"Congratulations," Andromeda says, then pulls back a little. "And if you hurt him, I will hex you from here to Moscow and back, you've got that?"

" _Andi_ ," protests Sirius, looking a little exasperated, though his cheeks are pink.

"Yes, sir," James says, wide-eyed. "I mean, ma'am. Andromeda."

Sirius's face gets a shade or two pinker. "Are you done threatening my boyfriend who would never hurt me ever except possibly a very small bit if I deserved it?"

Smiling slightly, Andromeda pats James's cheek before letting him go. "Well, I'd best be off."

"To buy a shotgun for Ted?" suggests Sirius, moving to give her a hug.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a roast for dinner, but sure."

"Start small," he agrees, nodding.

Smiling fully, Andromeda embraces him. "I really am glad," she says. "And only a little angry."

"Good. I'm glad," says Sirius, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Since you are my favourite relative, and all."

"With such stiff competition, too."

"Hey, Uncle Alphard gave me _money_."

"Don't push your luck," Andromeda says, releasing him. "And fix your fireplace, will you?"

"We'll work on it," Sirius says, going to hold the door open for her. 

"Do stop by soon," Andromeda says as she steps outside. "Nymphadora got you a present, you know."

"Yeah? One worthy of my heir?"

"She _is_ ten."

"I will take that as a yes," the self-appointed god of gift-giving replies loftily.

Shaking her head, Andromeda hands him the newspaper again. "You might want to keep this, actually. It is a sweet picture."

"I know," Sirius smiles, glancing down at it. "Lilith gave me a print, actually, but thank you."

Giving him one final smile, Andromeda Disapparates.

"... that went well, didn't it?"

"You weren't the one she was using her Black face on," says Sirius.

"I'm not the one who _forgot to tell her_ ," James replies, coming up behind Sirius and snaking his arms around his waist. "Smooth."

"Oi, _I_ was the one who said we should tell your mother," Sirius retorts, twisting to shoot James a look over his shoulder. "You could have returned the favour, or something."

James shrugs, leaning forward to press a light kiss to the taller man's neck. "Your family doesn't make sense to me, you know that."

Sirius makes a noise in the back of his throat. "I thought Andi, at least, was mildly fathomable," he says, dropping the paper and turning in James's arms.

"When she gets cross she looks _freakishly_ like her sister, though."

"You don't need to tell _me_ that."

"Poor darling," James mumbles, one hand coming up to stroke through Sirius's hair.

Leaning into the caress, Sirius lifts a brow, looking torn between pleasure and amusement. "... I thought you weren't being sympathetic in this case."

"I figure being nice to you is more likely to get me laid."

"Mm. So is throwing 'darling's around," nods Sirius.

"... shut up and kiss me," James mutters. The tips of his ears have gone bright red.

Smirking and muttering "We were in the middle of something, anyway," Sirius lifts a hand to James's hair and leans in.

* * *

**Wednesday, 8 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is everyone asking you about? Did I miss something? /Elexa** Dear Elexa, I guess you must have. Over the weekend, the Prophet ran a feature on me and my boyfriend, James Potter, after I attended this year's Quidditch annual with him. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm confused. Haven't you had girlfriends in the past? Then how can you be gay now? I don't mean to be rude, I just don't understand. /Perry aged 13** Dear Perry, Don't worry, that's not rudeness, that's curiosity. I can be gay now — as you put it — because I've always liked... er... a man, as well as girls. It happens to some people like that. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Isn't it weird kissing a bloke? Do you get stubble burn? If both of you are unshaven, do your faces stick together? /Candice** Dear Candice, What, seriously?! ... does _your_ face get stubble burn when you kiss a bloke? And we're never both unshaven, so that's a moot point, but no, our faces would _not_ stick together. In conclusion, kissing a bloke is like kissing any other kind of person — only, in this case, extra fantastic. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think I should dye my hair blue? /L.E. PS: I thought the questions were getting a bit repetetive. Some variation for you.** Dear Lily, No, not blue. Maybe black — then you could be my sister. Sirius PS: Thanks, darling. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just wanted to thank you for the feature in Saturday's Evening Prophet. Seeing you and James Potter together like that finally made me take the leap and tell *my* best friend that I'm in love with him, and we're now an item! I couldn't be more thrilled. Do you have any useful hints or tips for us? /Liam** Dear Liam, Congratulations! That's marvellous!! I'm delighted that our happiness has helped inspire someone else's. The most important thing I could tell you is to not lose sight of the fact that he's still your best mate, even if you have got a new name for your friendship — there's just more to it now. It's something I remember every day that I'm with James, now that he's finally my boyfriend as well as my best mate, and every day I'm more grateful. I am so damn _lucky_. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 10 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Are you the girl in your relationship or is James? /Colin** Dear Colin, I'm sorry, am I the _what_? We're _men_ — there _is_ no girl in our relationship. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Tell me it's not so!!! I've been in love with you AND James Potter since I was eleven and now you're BOTH taken? I'm heartbroken!!!! How can you be so cruel to your fans?!? /Agatha aged 14** Dear Agatha, Well, I apologise for your unnecessary anguish, but really, dear, it's probably for the best. We're so much older than you, after all... It never would have worked between us, love. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think this whole relationship thing is so cute! You should do a photoshoot for the paper with more adorable pictures. Maybe some ones where you kiss? I'm a photographer, I can help you out! /Alley** Dear Alley, Thank you! Though, I have to say, that is one of the most transparently voyeuristic yet ostensibly professional offers I've received since I've started working here. Sadly, I'm going to have to decline, as I really don't feel that shameless yet adorable promotional pictures are really our cup of tea. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Now that you and James are dating, will he get pregnant? /Sara** Dear Sara, Um. No, he won't. It, uh, doesn't work like that. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you find all these questions about your personal life annoying yet? /Paulette** Dear Paulette, Of course not; lately they've all been about James, and _most_ of them weren't insulting. Why would discussing one of my favourite subjects annoy me? Sirius  
---


	48. 13–19 August 1984

**Monday, 13 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why do people carry umbrellas? This is really confusing me. Please respond. /Ann** Dear Ann, I'm not sure. I've never carried an umbrella in my life. I think they're used by hydrophobic people. I did hear once that they were fashion statements, but really, if you're going to carry a pointy non-wand thing, why not a sword? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your favourite sound? What about your least favourite? /Mina** Dear Mina, Favourite: James making, er, sex noises. Least favourite: James making "Sirius you are a stupidhead" noises. No, really, I hate the sound of styrofoam against cardboard; it makes my skin crawl. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it weird for a bloke to use lipstick? /Arnie** Dear Annie, What, you mean on himself? Yes, a bit. At least, if he's not completely in drag... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think one should ever forgive an abusive spouse? My head is saying no, but the heart... /Bettina** Dear Betty, That really depends on your situation, and on how sincerely you believe that your spouse has repented and there will be no repeats of the abuse. But I know that _I_ would never forgive an abusive anything. Abuse, after all, is a betrayal of trust — and I do _not_ respond well to betrayal. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I was called into my boss' office last week, and told that I'm up for a brilliant promotion – less hours, better pay, an additional week of holiday etc – but there is a catch: I have to perform, er, services for him. What do you think I should say to that? I'm single, so that's not a problem, but he's married with young children and I just don't fancy him at all... but on the other hand, the promotion is everything I've dreamed of. What would you do in this situation? /Mellie** Dear Mellie, Tell his wife. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_The Evening Prophet Offices  
London, England  
14 August 1984  
12.43 pm_ **

Sitting at his desk, Sirius is sorting a large stack of papers into several piles, making hmm-ing noises every so often. After reading one of the pieces of paper, he snorts and tosses it toward a wire waste bin — narrowly missing the slender woman approaching his desk.

"Careful," she says, smiling and setting a large paper cup down in front of him, between the piles of papers. "Wouldn't want to spill your mocha, Black."

"With a wad of paper?" he scoffs, setting down his stack and reaching for the cup. "Thanks, Adelaide."

"You're welcome." She turns to go, pausing to shoot back over her shoulder. "Oh, and you've a visitor on their way up."

Sirius looks confused a moment, before beaming at her retreating back. "Thanks!" he calls, getting a backward wave, and then returns to his paper sorting, bouncing a bit.

A few moments later, a sharp click-click-click noise echoes through the room, followed by a rather shrill "Mr Black!"

Sirius turns, his pleasantly expectant expression turning quickly to one of irritated surprise. "Skeeter?"

"So nice to see you," Rita says, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. "You look... content."

"This is a surprise," says Sirius, not bothering to reply to her obviously leading statement.

"Did you not get my memo?" Rita asks, drumming her nails on his desk. "I thought we ought to have a little chat."

Sirius frowns at her. "What could we possibly have to talk about _this_ time?"

"Oh, come now," Rita says, laughing a little. "You're in the news."

"... Nope, still not coming up with anything for _us_ to talk about."

"Really?" askes Rita. "Even though you've _finally_ come out about your... sordid relationship with James Potter?"

" _It is not sordid_ ," Sirius growls.

Rita waves an impatient hand. "Secret, then. Clandestine."

Reaching for his mocha cup, Sirius hides his mouth behind it, muttering, "Do you know any words that _aren't_ dirty?"

Rita ignores him. "I was thinking a four-page spread," she says. "Interview, and pictures... maybe taken in your house..."

"In _our house_ —" Sirius sputters, very nearly spraying her with mocha. Hurriedly, he puts the cup down and demands, "Where do you _get_ these ideas?"

"It'd be lovely," Rita continues. "Very sweet. Free advertising for the both of you."

Sirius stares. "Why would we need advertising?"

"Oh, it's the Quidditch off-season," Rita says. "People forget so quickly."

"Tell that to the people who ask for autographs while James is having lunch," snaps Sirius. "Or who stop me in the grocery store."

"How nice," Rita says, with a tight smile. "To promote the cause, then."

Sirius gives her his you're-bloody-crazy look. "We're not promoting _anything_."

"Are you quite sure?"

"I'm quite sure I'm not going to do anything that _you_ think is a good idea!"

Rita looks quite put out.

"Besides," adds Sirius, with a bit of a sneer, "I don't see how commercialising my relationship with James would be promoting werewolf rights or anti-Muggleborn discrimination."

"Well, of course not!" Rita exclaims. "No one wants to read about _that_."

Sirius scowls. "A pity, then, since those are my only 'causes'."

Rita raises an eyebrow. "I see."

Sirius grits his teeth, audibly. "I'm sure you don't, actually, but whatever."

"I would have expected you to be more... loyal to your own, I suppose."

"Excuse me?"

Rita gives him a small smile. "You know, be an inspiration to all of the angst-ridden closeted teenagers out there, and whatnot."

Sirius glares at her, too full of seething incredulity to say anything.

"Think about it."

"You really think you can convince me to an interview with arguments like that?" Sirius shakes his head disdainfully. "You don't know anything about angst-ridden closeted teenagers." 

"As opposed to you?" Rita says, leaning closer to him. 

Sirius opens his mouth to reply, but snaps it closed at the last moment and just glares.

"You know, you look a bit tense," Rita remarks. "Is this a happy relationship?"

"... What could my being tense right now _possibly_ have to do with my relationship with James?"

"Talking about it is obviously a stress factor for you."

"Talking _to you_ is a stress factor!"

Rita completely ignores him. "How has your family taken this piece of news, then?"

"The ones by blood or by choice?"

Rita suddenly looks twice as interested. "Oooh, is _this_ the reason you —"

"... Si?"

At the sound of the new voice, Sirius whirls around in his chair, looking just a bit deranged.

"Er." James pauses in the doorway. "I thought we said 1 o'clock."

"Is it 1 already?" asks Sirius, sounding hopeful.

"Four to one," Rita says quickly, standing up. "Mr Potter, what a pleasant surprise."

"Er," James says again.

Sirius glances back at the reporter and scowls some more. "You remember Skeeter, don't you, James?"

"Pleasure," says Rita, extending a hand towards him.

James shakes it, staring rather stupidly at her.

Sirius growls softly. "Skeeter," he says icily, "had some delusions— I mean, questions for me."

"About you, actually," says Rita, grinning squarely at him. "Would you mind talking to me, James? I can call you James, right?"

"Er," James says again.

"Mr Potter will suffice," interjects Sirius, rather sharply.

"Now, Sirius, don't be snappy," Rita says, turning to peer at him over the rims of her glasses. "We're colleagues, after all."

"Fun thing, I was thinking about moving into a new line of work," Sirius deadpans.

Rita lets out a loud, obviously fake laugh. "Has he always been this funny, James?"

"You know, James, we should get going," Sirius announces, cutting off whatever response James might have been about to make.

"Oh, where are we off to?" asks Rita, standing up.

Sirius stares at her with something like an extremely strong version of disbelief. " _James and I_ have a lunch date," he says, after a moment.

Rita blinks at him, then turns to James. "You don't mind if I come along, do you?"

James gapes at her. "Actually," he says, finding his voice at last, "I do."

Sirius growls again. "And even if he didn't, _I_ do."

Pausing only slightly, Rita smiles at the both of them again. "Of course. Romantic lunch for two, eh?"

"Yes," Sirius says succinctly, getting up and moving next to James, gripping his hand rather unnecessarily hard.

"How about we just schedule that at-home interview, then?"

Jaw cracking audibly, Sirius's hand tightens on James's.

".... at-home what?" James asks, directing the question to Sirius rather than Rita. "Ow."

"She wants to come to our house," Sirius explains, through gritted teeth. He loosens his grip, slightly.

"Oh," James says, turning to look at Rita again. "No."

Rita blinks at the both of them.

"I am not a circus attraction," James announces, "and neither is Sirius."

Sirius gives James a very grateful, rather adoring look. "She thinks we ought to be an example for angst-ridden closeted teenagers," he adds, a bite to his voice.

"Oh," James says, frowning deeply. "Well, can't help you. Never was one of those."

Sirius's fingers tighten again, involuntarily. "See?" he snaps at Rita. "You're out of luck."

Rita smiles again, a bit weaker this time. "Maybe just a quick chat, then?"

"We already had a quick chat," replies Sirius, still snapping. "And now my boyfriend and I are going to go have a quick lunch."

"But —"

"Good day, miss Skeeter," James says, pulling at Sirius's hand. 

"Good _bye_ ," Sirius says, passing James and tugging him down the hall.

"Can we reschedule?" Rita calls after them.

"No," Sirius replies as he walks away from her, not stopping until he nearly runs into the woman who brought him his mocha earlier. "Adelaide," he growls. "There is a... _woman_ at my desk."

"Hello," James adds. "How do you do?"

Adelaide blinks at him, glancing between the two men. "Er, I'm good, you must be Sirius's—"

"The woman at my desk," Sirius repeats, more loudly. "Make sure she leaves, would you, please?"

"All right..." Adelaide replies, clearly a bit confused. "And you're, er—?"

"Going out to lunch," James offers, sticking out his hand. "James."

"I figured," she says, shaking his hand. "Sirius doesn't usually drag men around by the hand, you know."

"I should hope not," James says, shooting Sirius an amused sideways glance.

Adelaide gives them a small smile. "So, Black, this woman I'm supposed to evict...?"

"Probably a mocha-thief," Sirius replies quickly. "But we're late for lunch."

"Nice meeting you," James adds, pulling at Sirius's hand again. "Addie, yeah?"

Adelaide nods, watching Sirius let himself be led away. "Nice meeting you, too, Mr Potter."

Having finally escaped the office, James lets out a breath. "Every day like this?"

"No." Sirius sighs, taking a deep breath. "Normally there's less bwitch and more mocha-drinking."

James snickers.

Sirius takes another deep breath and lets it out in a sigh. "C'mon, love," he murmurs, mustering a smile. "Let's go to lunch, and I'll try to lure you back to the house for some hot, steamy mid-afternoon sex."

" _That's_ an exclusive I won't turn down," replies James, grinning.

Sirius beams. "You never do."

"Don't get cocky."

"... but that's the _point_ of going home right now."

"Shut up," James laughs.

"C'mon."

Still grinning, James does as he says.

* * *

**Wednesday, 15 August**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem, and you seem like the best person to ask, so here we go. I am 18 and in my very first relationship with another guy. We've been together about a month but we've yet to be intimate. At least part of the reason for this is that I'm really concerned about... well, size. What if I'm a lot smaller and he laughs at me?! Or the other way around, and he feels totally inadequate? Am I being surpremely silly, here? If so, how do I get over these fears? /Jacob** Dear Jake, Don't worry, he won't laugh at you. At least, I should hope he wouldn't, and if he does, well, that's another matter entirely, and one which has nothing to do with relative sizes and everything to do with respect and affection and things of that nature. I would recommend mentioning these concerns to your boyfriend, and seeing if he can't set them at ease. If that doesn't work for you, well — there's always Firewhiskey to numb the edges of those fear. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Would you go bleach blonde for a hundred galleons? /Sabrina** Dear Sabrina, I wouldn't go bleach blonde for a _thousand_ galleons. Sirius PS: Now ask me about auburn. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it completely wrong to have a favourite child? I know I _shouldn't_ , it's just that my middle daughter is so much... nicer than the other two. What do you recommend? /Leesha ** Dear Leesha, Feeling really guilty. And not ever letting any of them know you feel that way. Trust me, it would NOT make the other two any nicer. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why do men turn into such BABIES when they are sick?! Is this true for you, too? And James? What do you two do if you're BOTH sick at the same time? /Fed up** Dear Fed up, There is really no safe answer to any of those questions, except the last one, which is really quite simple. We call Not-Mum. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What on earth is a lawnmower and what it is used for? Is it something vicious? /Steve** Dear Steve, I think it's a mechanical cross between a goat and a machete. James and I have one, but I don't really understand how it works — only that it cuts the grass. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 17 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best mate recently told me that he loves me and I'm sort of weirded out. I don't _think_ he meant in a romantic way, but, well, it's not really something blokes say to each other... is it? /Adam ** Dear Adam, ... And just why _can't_ blokes say it to each other if they want to, especially in a non-romantic sense? Last time I checked, men were just as capable of loving people as women. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever been in love? /Esther** Dear Esther, Once. Since forever. Still am, don't intend to ever stop. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, When do you think it's appropriate to introduce your children to your new partner? My ex-wife and I divorced about six months ago, and now I'm seeing someone new. My children are aged 13, 11 and 8, and I'd really like for them to meet my girlfriend. I've been seeing her for about two months. Do you think this is a long enough time, or should I wait a little longer? /Dirk** Dear Dirk, If it had been longer since your split from your ex-wife, I would say that two months is probably fine — provided you do the thing right and are gradual and non-forceful about it — but a parents' divorce has _got_ to be a hard time for kids of any age, and six months really isn't that long to come to terms with such a drastic change. I'd wait a few more months. Unless your children start expressing interest; that's a different thing entirely. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm about to start my fifth year at Hogwarts and I can't decide which subjects to stick with. I want the ones that require the least effort. What would you recommend? /Lazy Lee** Dear Leezy, Divination is a breeze, or so I hear, as long as your imagination doesn't mind running wild a bit. I don't know what else I'd necessarily recommend — just do NOT take Arithmancy or Ancient Runes because they actually require that you do WORK, even if you're stunningly brilliant(ly attractive), as I am. Additionally, Care of Magical Creatures is all right, as long as you don't mind losing a fingertip or two. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, as an oracle of Muggle fashion, I ask you: red jeans, yay or nay? /Joe** Dear Joe, No. Sirius  
---


	49. 20–26 August 1984

**Monday, 20 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Now that you're a boyfriend richer but a roommate poorer, do you need someone to fill that void? Since you must have a spare bedroom and all. I am very well behaved and never smoke indoors. What do you say? /Paula, 37** Dear SWF, I'm sure we appreciate the offer, but I'm not actually a roommate poorer, I just get to do naughty things to him and sleep in the same bed every night now. And we don't have a spare bedroom, either — we've a future-trophy room, with boxes and a couple of dust bunny colonies. It's very nice. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Would you ever shave your head? For charity? /Melinda** Dear Melinda, How would shaving my head help charity? I mean, sure, I might, conceivably, donate my hair to, say, some group that makes wigs for children with cancer, or something... but that'd be the only reason I would. I would never shave my head as a publicity stunt — I can think of better, anyway. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm in a bit of a pickle, as it were. I'm in a relationship with this girl and I'm trying to get out of it, but she won't let me! Every time I try to bring up the topic she quickly changes it, and the one time I actually got to the point and told her I want to break up, her response was "no you don't"! What should I do? /Trapped** Dear Trapped, Skip getting to the point and just... get there. In the middle of some other conversation, without warning, just announce "We're over" and leave. (Normally I wouldn't condone such behaviour, but, well, it sounds like there are extenuating circumstances.) Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. One of my friends is having an affair with a mutual friend's husband, and she confided in me. Now I don't know what to do. Do I break her confidence and tell my friend who's being cheated on, or the other way around? And to make matters worse, I'm friends with the husband, too! /Rock, hard place** Dear Morass, The friend having the affair had no right to put you in such an untenable position. Now, I'm not saying that her doing so relieves you of the burden of keeping her confidence — but clearly this woman has already betrayed one friend, and besides that, she should have realised that you have loyalties to that woman, in addition to her. Were I in your position, I would go to the husband (after I slap the woman who did the confiding to begin with) and tell him that you know about his affair, and that if he doesn't come clean about it to his wife, you'll feel obligated to fill her in, yourself. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I just became the proud father of a little boy, and we're naming him James. However my wife and I can't decide upon a nickname for him, and we figured you might be able to help, having a James close at hand! What would you recommend, and what nickname(s) does your James go by? /Daddy** Dear Daddy, Congratulations! James is an excellent name. Unfortunately, my James doesn't really allow anyone to use nicknames for him — except "Prongs" but that has nothing to do with his actual name so it doesn't count. I sometimes call him "Jim" to let him know I'm not happy, though, or "Jimmy" if I'm being deliberately cute or annoying. Maybe you can call your little bundle of joy "Jamie"? I always thought that was well darling... Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 22 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am a 22-year old woman with a 17-year old brother, and over the course of the summer I've noticed something really disturbing. I find a bunch of his friends really, really fit (you should see the arms on one of them)! What is wrong with me? Am I a pervert? /Thalia** Dear Thalia, Don't worry, no, you're not a pervert. You just like younger men. (At least you're not lusting over 15-year olds or something. Now _that_ 'd be rather pervy.) Besides, younger men with gorgeous arms are... _nice_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What does it mean if you tell someone you love them, and they reply with "and I love spending time with you"? /Concerned** Dear Concerned, It means you're screwed, that's what it means. I hope you have practice being unhappy — because you're probably going to be getting very good at it, shortly. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you ever take young women for joyrides on the back of your motorcycle, to impress them? If so, does it work? /Lowell** Dear Lowell, No, not really. I've given Lils a ride a time or two, because I can and because it's amusing to watch her boyfriend get jealous, and I've promised eventual rides to another friend and my little cousin... but none of that has to do with impressing them. I imagine if I set out to do so, it probably would — though, of course, if I set out to impress them, I doubt I'd need my bike. James sure seems impressed, anyway, and he doesn't even like Mathilda. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I really wanted a baby sister but I got a baby brother instead. Why didn't my mummy and daddy listen to me properly before getting me one? /Alice** Dear Alice, Don't be too mad at your parents! The baby store doesn't let mummies and daddies pick whether they get boys are girls. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a bit of a problem. I recently got together with the most wonderful girl in the world whom I have been in love with for years and everything is great... or would be, if I could stop being upset that I've been in love with her for much longer than she's been in love with me. She only fell for me a few months ago and every time I think about all those years spent loving her when she didn't love me I want to curl up and die! Do you have any suggestions on what to do? /Jealous?** Dear Jealous, GET OVER IT. Neither of you can change the past, and the only thing that'll come from you making a big deal out of those wasted years is the end of a good thing. And then you'll REALLY feel bad, won't you? Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
23 August 1984  
6.42 pm_ **

"She _was_ supposed to be here at seven, yeah?" James asks, not for the first time. He glances nervously at the clock.

"Yes," confirms Sirius, trying not to look amused. "It's still a quarter-to, love."

James mutters something, brushing away something non-existant from the dinner table.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," replies James as he straightens out the silverware. 

Smiling slightly, Sirius watches him for a moment. "Maybe we should go wait in the living room," he suggests.

"Maybe," James agrees. "You _did_ clean up in there, yeah?"

"For the fifth time, yes, I did," says Sirius, rolling his eyes slightly. "There are no beer bottles, takeaway boxes, old jumpers or dirty socks anywhere. It even smells nice."

"Good." James pauses, then leans over to brush Sirius's hair out of his eyes.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "... love?"

"Hm?"

"She's really not scary at all, you know."

"I know," James says, not sounding very convincing. He's still prodding at Sirius's fringe.

"And she sees my hair like this every day."

"Uh-huh."

"James, _really_ ," Sirius sighs, reaching up to catch James's hand. "Stop _fussing_."

".... I've turned into my mother, haven't I?"

Sirius shakes his head. "Oh, no, of course not — your hair hasn't turned white yet."

James chuckles.

"C'mon," says Sirius, tugging the other man out of the kitchen.

"It's just," James begins, trailing behind him, "I've never _had_ a boss, y'know?"

"Yes, you're very lucky," Sirius smiles. "Though, honestly, I'd rather have Thora than that coach of yours."

"You only say that 'cause you can't handle the pushups."

Sirius makes a derisive noise.

James glances at the grandfather clock, frowning.

"James, please, _relax_."

"Easy for you to say," James mumbles, sinking onto the sofa. "Why are we doing this again?"

"To make it up to Thora for her patience with all those _you_ questions last week," replies Sirius, in the tone of one who has said this several times already.

"Isn't she the one who decides which ones you answer?"

"No, I do that. She just tells me when I've picked one we can't run."

James looks amused. "Like what?"

Sirius grins. "Like the one from a reader talking about how phenomenal she thought you must be in bed."

"Ah, a Seer!"

"She said you probably liked to get bossed around," Sirius says flatly, his grin getting wider.

James lets out a loud chuckle. "Maybe not, then."

Sirius laughs, just as a knock comes from the front door. James yelps.

"I'll get that, shall I," mumbles Sirius, still grinning.

Standing up, James starts fussing with the sofa cushions.

Sirius moves to the front door, opening it just as the woman on the other side is raising her hand to knock again. "Hello, Thora," he greets her cheerfully.

"Hello, Black," she replies, smiling. "That was rather prompt of you."

"James was afraid you'd be late," Sirius says, stepping aside to let her pass him, then closing the door behind her.

"Hello," James says, coming up just behind Sirius. "May I take your coat?"

"Thank you." Slipping out of her ivory jacket, Thora passes it to him. "It's a pleasure to see you when you're not being dragged out of my building, Mr Potter."

"Likewise, Ms Gale," replies James, taking her jacket and offering his hand. 

"Thora, please," she says, smiling up at him. "I feel as if I already know you, after all."

Sirius coughs loudly.

James returns her smile. "Please, do come inside. Si, why don't you get her something to drink?"

Sirius straightens, trying to look innocent despite the mirthful flicker in his eyes. "Of course. What would you like, Thora — Water? Wine? A beer?"

"Water will be fine, thank you," Thora says firmly, and Sirius half-salutes as he heads off to the kitchen.

"Dinner's not quite ready yet," James explains as he returns from his coat run. "Would you like to step into the sitting room?"

"That would be lovely." Smiling, Thora adds, "Sirius tells me that you two have the most comfortable couch on the face of all Wizarding Earth."

James chuckles. "I think he might be exaggerating just a bit. That couch is his baby."

"I do rather get that impression," she agrees, chuckling as well as she follows him into the living room. "He talks about it almost as much as he does that motorcycle. Though, he's never shown any pictures of _it_ around the office."

"... he has pictures of his bike in the office?"

Thora gives him a rather amused, faintly disbelieving look. "Don't tell me you're surprised."

"I guess I shouldn't be," James agrees, shaking his head a bit.

"Probably not, though I think his favourite's the one that has the motorcycle _and_ you." Thora smiles, shaking her head a bit. "Is this the famous couch, then?"

"It is," James nods, looking curious now. " _What_ picture, exactly?"

"It looks quite ordinary, after all Sirius's bragging. Rather anti-climactic, I must say," she announces, sitting down at one end of the white couch. Once seated, she turns back to James and says, "The one with you and Mathilda-whatsits."

"Ermyntrude," adds James. "The one where I look really awkward, you mean?"

Thora nods. "That's the one."

Sirius enters the room, a glass of ice water in one hand and a beer in the other. "You, er, might want to check on your kitchen, James."

Eyes widening, James dashes off.

"I think something might be burning," Sirius explains to Thora, passing her the water glass as he takes a seat at the other end of the couch.

"Everything's under control!" James shouts out.

"I guess it isn't," says Thora, smiling and sipping her water. "Your couch _is_ rather comfortable, Black."

Sirius beams proudly. "Told you."

James's head pokes out from the kitchen. "Er, dinner's ready."

"Excellent," says Sirius, looking delighted, as he stands. To Thora, he says, "It smelled delicious earlier."

"I'm guessing you didn't cook."

"I didn't think scrambled eggs and bacon was appropriate," replies James, holding the kitchen door open for them and winking at Sirius.

"Oi, I _can_ cook," protests Sirius without heat. He's grinning a bit.

Thora looks amused. "Please, Black, I've seen every one of your columns; I _know_ what's what."

"No, really, he _can_ ," James adds, as he holds out a chair for Thora. "Plain spaghetti with ketchup is food, right?"

"You're not doing me any favours, love," mutters Sirius, sitting down himself.

Thora pretends not to have heard him. "I don't know that I'd consider it _food_ , necessarily," she muses. "Possibly edible, though."

Chuckling again, James sits down next to Thora. "Good thing he has me, eh?"

She nods. "An immeasurably good thing, I would say."

"You'd think that, as my editor, you'd be on _my_ side, Thora," declares Sirius, rather loudly.

"Shush," James grins at him, pouring them each a glass of wine.

"Thank you," says Thora, as Sirius peers dubiously at the pot of stew in the center of the table and suspiciously asks, "What did you put in it, love?"

"It's Beef Bourguignon, Si," James replies, looking rather amused. "I told you."

"I think I was distracted," Sirius mutters, before offering some of the stew to Thora.

The tips of James's ears colour slightly.

"Something actually distracted you from _food_?" asks Thora, obviously surprised.

"It happens," mutters James. "Pass me the rice, Si?"

Sirius picks up the rice and passes it to James with his left hand, while serving himself stew with his right.

Thora still looks surprised. "I didn't think anything could distract him from food. I mean, this is the man who insists he actually _needs_ a two-hour lunch."

"Um, well, he's, er, not quite that one-track-minded," James mumbles. "Rice?"

"I am too," Sirius counters with a smirk.

"Thank you," Thora says to James, while glancing curiously at Sirius.

"Si," James warns. "We're _eating_."

Sirius shrugs unrepentantly. "I could probably do both."

"... all right, what _are_ you talking about?"

James flushes further. Sirius just looks smug.

Thora eyes them both.

"Nothing, nothing," says Sirius, after a moment. "Just, uh... nothing."

"Nothing," James adds. "Would you like some salad?"

Thora still looks curious. "Ah, yes, please."

"Trust me, you don't want to know," James mutters as he passes her the salad bowl. "Si needs some more training on how to behave in public."

"This is not public," interjects Sirius, almost indignantly. "This is _your kitchen_."

James chuckles.

"And she," Sirius adds, pointing his fork — carrot on the tines and all — at Thora, "is used to me."

"Is she used to you discussing your s—"

"D'you really want to say it, love?" Sirius interrupts, raising his eyebrows.

"Please, she's got to have figured it out by now," replies James, throwing a quick sideways glance at Thora.

She's smiling at them. "... are all of your dinner table conversations like this?"

"No," Sirius replies, de-carroting his fork. "Most of 'em are worse."

"At least he's wearing trousers for this one," adds James.

"Oh?" Thora leans forward, just a bit — then tries to cover the motion by belatedly reaching for her wine glass. "Er, do you, um, often let him eat without trousers on?"

"I think you overestimate the kind of control I have over him, really.."

Sirius snickers. "Or else she's just applying it to the wrong aspect of our lives."

"Si!"

"Oh." Taking in James's now thoroughly red face, Thora's eye widen. " _Oh._ "

"Your poker face is abysmal," announces Sirius.

"And this is not awkward at all," mumbles James.

"I, um, was not expecting quite... _that_ much information," Thora mutters.

Sirius glances between the other two at the table, then turns his attention to his plate. "This stew thing is actually as tasty as it smells."

"Thank you," James says, sounding very thankful at the change of subject. 

"The rice is also delicious," Thora says quickly.

"Er, yes, thank you," replies James, sounding slightly confused. "So, Ms Gale — Thora."

"Yes, James?"

"What's it like, being Sirius's boss?"

Thora actually stops eating for a moment to consider this. Eventually, she declares, "Exhausting."

"I am still here," Sirius says, though he looks amused.

"Just how many crazy letters does he get?"

"At least a couple hundred every day, and at least half of them are so utterly ludicrous it's almost frightening."

James grins. "And borderline pornographic, or so I hear."

Thora rolls her eyes. "What do you mean, _borderline_?"

"... do I want to know?"

"No," says Sirius, shaking his head quickly. "No, you do not."

"Hey, as long as you keep the marriage proposals to a minimum," says James, still grinning.

Sirius perks up slightly. "Oh, did I tell you, I got almost _none_ of those last week?"

"Almost?!"

"There's a middle-aged woman in Kent who has been sending in a proposal every Tuesday since Sirius's column began," explains Thora, chuckling a bit.

".... really," says James, raising an eyebrow. "Does she not get that you're taken, Si?"

Sirius shrugs. "Oh, she's taken, as well. Married, actually."

"And her husband doesn't mind?"

Thora laughs. "He proposes sometimes, too."

"Oi!" James exclaims. 

"I try not to think what their home life must be like," says Sirius.

"As long as they know they can't have you," mutters James.

"Don't worry," Sirius assures him, reaching across the table to pat his hand, "I always say 'no'."

"I should bloody well hope so!"

"He gets marriage proposals for you, too," Thora declares. She smiles. "He says 'no' to those, as well."

"Really, now?"

Thora nods. "Very snippy he is about it, too."

James grins at Sirius.

Sirius sticks out his tongue.

"And Sirius is _always_ very mature about it," adds Thora dryly.

"I'm sure he is," James replies, eyes fixed on Sirius's mouth.

"I don't know _why_ people still seem to think I'll be nice to them if they write in and talk about wanting my best mate," Sirius is saying, his voice very prim.

"Best mate?"

"Well, the boyfriend part _was_ something of a secret until recently..."

"... Si?" James says, still staring at his lips.

Sirius trails off and arches an eyebrow. "... yes, love?"

"Please stop distracting me from my dinner."

"...what?"

James's eyes dart between Sirius's lips and his eyes.

"...oh." Sirius smirks. "Well. Can't help that, can I?"

"You two really do communicate through some secret language unintelligible to us mortals," mutters Thora.

"My apologies," says James, finally tearing his eyes away. "How is everything?"

"It's all delicious, thank you," she replies. "Just as Sirius promised it would be."

"Did he now," James asks, sounding rather amused. "What have I told you about bragging, Si?"

"Er... only to do it about you?"

".... not that bit."

Sirius feigns a thoughtful frown. "There was another bit?"

"Yes," James nods. "Don't do it."

"Oh." Sirius pauses. "I thought you meant not to you."

"This is what happens when parents don't raise their children properly," James said, facing Thora and shaking his head sadly.

Thora raises her eyebrows, her lips twitching slightly. "I thought your parents were the ones who finished raising him." 

"Oh, the damage was done by then," says Sirius hurriedly, a solemn look on his face.

"Yes," agrees James. "Besides, teaching humility was never my parents' strong suit."

Thora's lip-twitching increases. "Indeed."

"I don't reckon she needs to be told that," Sirius remarks teasingly. He smirks. "I don't reckon _anyone_ needs to be told that."

"I'm sure I've no idea what you're on about."

Sirius looks even smirkier. "You wouldn't."

"You know, I can't help but wonder..." murmurs Thora, openly smiling now.

"Yes?" asks James, looking slightly apprehensive.

Thora leans forward a bit and contrives to look serious. "Which one of you two _does_ have the higher opinion of you, James?"

Sirius chokes on his wine.

"Um."

Thora raises her eyebrows expectantly.

"Er, that's not a very safe question, is it?" asks Sirius.

"Sirius does," James says, almost simultaneously.

Thora does not look particularly surprised.

"Oi!" Sirius glares half-heartedly at James, the faintest suggestion of pink on his cheeks. "You shouldn't say things like that to people who I've told all about your ego."

"I do not have a big ego!"

"Well. You _used_ to."

James pouts.

"I mean, just ask Lily."

"What's she's got to do with anything?!"

"Well, you _do_ remember why she turned you down, right?"

James winces.

Sirius pats his hand again. "Not that she was _entirely_ right, of course."

"I thought we'd decided not to talk about that ever again."

"Did we?"

Thora is grinning openly. "They really should put the pair of you on the Wireless."

James raises his eyebrows, before grinning widely at her.

"I know Adelaide and I, at least, would never miss it!"

"What d'you think, Si?" James asks, still grinning like a fool.

Sirius smirks right back at him. "C'mon, you know how much fun I had the _last_ time they put me on there..."

James goes a little glassy-eyed.

"See? It'd be fun." Sirius turns to Thora. "So, shall we start a campaign, Thora?"

Thora raises her eyebrows. "Are you prepared for Adelaide to petition everyone in the office?"

"I think she's started that already, actually."

"... just what goes on at that place you work at?!"

"We sit around at desks all day, love," says Sirius, grinning at James. "We've got to have _some_ way of entertaining ourselves."

"Here I thought your way was to send yourself stupid questions," James replies.

"... I have never done that!"

Thora nods. "He gets Hubert Brenham from the next desk to do it for him," she says matter-of-factly.

"Oi!"

"I knew it!" James exclaims, looking positively gleeful.

Sirius glares at Thora, who smiles rather smugly. "A secret, was that?" she asks.

"This is a conspiracy," Sirius grumbles.

"This was your idea, you know."

"It was my idea to be nice, not to set my boss and my boyfriend against me."

"Like I could ever be against you," mumbles James.

Sirius smiles, his expression melting a bit. "You're against me every night," he says after a moment. "And most mornings, too."

"Si," James protests, rather half-heartedly.

"Thora doesn't mind," Sirius insists defensively. "Do you, Thora?"

"... all of your conversations really are like this, aren't they?"

James glances at Sirius.

Sirius grins.

* * *

**Friday, 24 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it true that James Potter has a sordid past with Montrose Magpies Keeper Oscar Egan? According to sources they were an item for years. Any juicy details? /R.S.** Dear Rita, You just don't give up, do you? Your sources are absolute rubbish, because none of that's the least bit true. The only anyone male and Quidditch-related that James has a sordid past with is _me_. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know the way to Narnia? I've been reading the information pamphlets and reckon it seems a nice place to go, but I'm having no luck whatsoever finding a Portkey that takes me there. Do you think this is because it's more of a Muggle resort? It seems rather magical to me, but it's more well known amongst Muggles. Any advice would be appreciated! /Felice** Dear Felice, Actually, dear, I'm fairly positive that Narnia is a fantasy land, and does not actually exist anywhere in the real world. Those information pamphlets you mentioned are, in fact, works of Muggle fiction. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I used to have a dog his name was Bobo. Last year my mum and dad said Bobo went to live in a farm but I have checked all the farms near our house and he is not there. Where did he really go? /Adam** Dear Adam, Aw, poor fellow! I know how sad I'd be if my dog went to live on a farm... probably Bobo has gone to live in the great big dog run in the sky. I'm sure he's happy there — they have squirrels for him to chase. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. See, I'm sort of having an affair with my best friend... and his girlfriend. None of them know that the other one is cheating on them. It's a bit of a sticky situation and I don't think it's good for my blood pressure. What should I do? /Emma** Dear Emma, Man, you sure known how to enjoy yourself, don't you? Here's what I'd do if I were in your position: I would arrange with each of them (separately, of course) to meet you at a certain time for the naughty things that you do with each other... and then when they both show you say "Surprise!" and "Anyone for a threesome?" and hope neither of them kills you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am in my late 50s and dating a woman in her early 30s. Problem is my three children are aged 37, 34 and 29. I have no idea how to tell them about her. What should I do? /Bruce** Dear Bruce, "Everyone, this is my girlfriend, [insert name here]. She makes me feel young." Sirius  
---


	50. 27 August–2 September 1984

**Monday, 27 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I understand you have issues with your mother. Do you reckon these are the reason you shun women and have even turned gay? /Blenda** Dear Blenda, I have issues with my mother because she is a raging, psychotic, bigoted B*TCH, and my homosexuality or lack thereof is in no way related to that fact. Furthermore, I do not _shun_ women; not including James, two-thirds of my closest friends are female. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever participated in a werewolf hunt? If not, I'm organising one next month (full moon, of course!) if you'd be interested in attending. /Huntsman** Dear Huntsman, No, I'm busy every full moon — I've a standing hot date. But please excuse me while I hunt YOU. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I recently went to Southampton and they were all going on about something called a Titanic. Do you have any insight into what this might be? /Delilah** Dear Delilah, Well, decades ago there was this really big boat-shaped ice cube tray that, er, sank, so people started calling it unsinkable... Kinda amusing, really. (And you thought Muggles didn't have a sense of humour.) Maybe that's it? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My significant other is too good looking. It's giving bad self esteem and all sorts of trouble. Is there any way I can even the scores a bit? /E.** Dear Eee, Eh, I have never had that problem. How about you frequently, sternly remind yourself that there MUST be SOMETHING awesome about you, or they wouldn't be with you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, A while ago my friend and I were discussing baby names, as we were both pregnant at the same time. I told her about the names I've wanted for my children since I was fifteen years old, and now that she's had her baby, she's stolen my number one name for a boy! I'm still four weeks away from my due date and now I have no boy name! Is this a nice and fair thing to do? /Nameless mama** Dear Nameless, Well, er, I suppose maybe it isn't, technically, but... why is this even a problem? Is there some legal reason why you can't use the boy name, too? I mean, you won't get arrested for exceeding a limit, or something, right? Anyway, if you really CAN'T use it, too, then I suggest James. James is a good name. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 29 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think a friend of mine has a crush on me. How can you tell, though? I know it's not an exact science, but some pointers would be helpful. /Isobel** Dear Izzy, Do they look at you for just a beat too long sometimes? Do they seem to touch you unnecessarily, such as when handing each other something? Do they ever seem to go more out of their way for you than they do your other friends? Do they disparage your significant others, to your face or to mutual friends, regardless of your significant others' traits, personalities or features? Do they behave in an openly hostile manner when they're in the same room as your significant others? If you answered 'yes' to at least three of those, you're probably right and your friend probably has a crush on you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What, to date, has been the scariest moment of your life and why? /Ophelia** Dear Ophelia, Ah. Well. That was something I could have done without reliving, outside my nightmares. Ahem. During the War, there was this one particular fight James and I ended up in with a bunch of Death Eaters, an extra nasty one, just the two of us, when we weren't expecting to be fighting at all. They came out of nowhere, got the drop on us, outnumbered at least three-to-one but probably more like five-to-one. (Those kinds of details are a bit fuzzy.) James went down almost right away, bleeding all over the place... I wasn't close enough to be sure he was breathing, but it didn't look as if he were, and there really was _so much blood_. For twenty whole minutes, I thought he was dead. Hopefully you don't actually need me to explain why that terrified me all the way down to my toes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, All of my coworkers are toerags and I really hate them. (Some of them smell, too.) I love my job, though. What would you do in my situation and why? /Outsider** Dear Outsider, Deliberately piss off everyone but your boss. If you're lucky, they'll all quit or request transfers or simply start pretending you don't exist. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife and I are having our first baby in October and we're really excited (obviously), but we just found out we're having a boy and now we're freaking out a bit. Do you think two women are qualified to raise a son? The biological father is an acquaintance of ours and will meet the baby, but will not be involved in raising him. Are we being silly, or should we go shop for a man-nanny? /Elizabeth** Dear Elizabeth, Ma'am, you've got nothing to worry about, so long as there's SOME male running around somewhere reasonably close to the pair of you that he can take as a role model. What most people don't seem to realise is that females are an essential part of raising males — otherwise they turn out mean and misogynistic and all kinds of not-cool. Just make sure you've got someone to name as godfather for your little boy, and you should be good. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Don't you and James Potter ever get sick and tired of each other? With him being your best friend, roommate AND boyfriend, you're bound to spend a LOT of time together, right? /Benji** Dear Benji, That's the way I _like_ things! Though sometimes, of course, James does order me out of the house... usually because he has to clean something and he's tired of me trying to entice him into shagging, instead. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 31 August 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is your opinion on ending a relationship via owl? (Does it make a difference if the relationship is a marriage?) /Nuno** Dear Nuno, That's the coward's way out and should be avoided at all costs except when it's absolutely, er, _un_ avoidable. If it's a marriage that you're ending via owl, well, you're doubly chickensh*t. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, You're really fit so why don't you date someone better looking than James Potter? He has funny hair and specs and he's not half as fit as Roan Williamson. Just a suggestion! /Aimee** Dear Aimee, Because I'm not in love with Roan Williamson, or anyone else, and I'd rather stab myself in the throat than seriously date anyone who is not my James. And his hair is not funny. And I love his glasses. And he's perfectly bloody fit. Thank you very much. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you know of any glamour spells? I am really fickle when it comes to my appearance and love changing my hair colour, eye colour and all that, but it's so time consuming to do it the Muggle way! I don't need (or want) it to be permanent or anything, just for a laugh. Any ideas? /Vera** Dear Vera, Actually, I saw a book the last time I was in Flourish and Blotts that might help you. It's full of just those sort of spells you mentioned, ranging from ones that only last a half an hour, to those that are permanent without the counterspell. I don't remember what it was called, but you shouldn't have any trouble finding it if you ask the clerk. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem. I think my boyfriend's best mate hates me!! He's always snarky and mean and horrible and I've been nothing but nice to him. Whenever my boyfriend's around he's nice enough, but as soon as he leaves... even his wife is starting to question him on why he's so rude to me. My boyfriend, however, doesn't believe me! What should I do? This is really stressing me out! /Shunned** Dear Shunned, The next time he starts being a toerag, loudly inform him that if he's that jealous of you, he should have done something about it a long time ago. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it possible to be allergic to houses? I think I'm allergic to my office, you see. /Sally** Dear Sally, I'm not an expert, but I don't think so. Maybe you're allergic to something — or some _one_ — _at_ your office? Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
2 September 1984  
8.53 am_ **

Blinking slightly in the morning sunlight, James shifts closer to the body next to him. With a yawn, he snakes his arm across Sirius's waist, pressing his front tightly against the other man's back.

Giving a low, sleepy murmur, Sirius snuggles backwards without waking. James presses a lazy kiss against the back of his neck. 

Sirius snuggles further. "...m'love?"

"Morning," James mumbles back, tightening his hold.

"...'m sleepin'."

"I'm waking you up," replies James, with a small forward thrust of his hips.

"Well, _you're_ already up," Sirius mumbles, half into the pillow. He wiggles his hips against James's.

James chuckles, then presses his lips to Sirius's neck again.

Grinning a bit, Sirius opens his eyes and twists his torso until he can see James. "Mm... what time is it?"

"Does it matter?" 

Sirius's grin widens a few fractions. "Well not really, but I told Ivy—"

James's hand moves lower on Sirius's belly.

"—but that's not really important, is it?" Sirius finishes, his muscles jumping beneath James's hand.

"No," agrees James, shifting so that he can kiss Sirius properly.

Sirius moans softly, lifting a hand to twine through James's hair. "I like waking up this way," he pulls away far enough to announce.

"Thank Merlin for Sundays," James replies as his hand slips beneath the covers bunched up around their waists.

"Yes," agrees Sirius, arching his hips toward that hand. "Imagine if I had to leave for work in twenty."

"I'm glad you think so highly of me."

Sirius chuckles, leaning and pressing his lips to the side of James's neck. "Who says it's _you_?"

James wraps his fingers around him.

"Shit, never mind, yes it's you," Sirius says quickly.

"Good morning," James laughs.

"You said that already, I think," gasps Sirius, pushing forward into James's hand.

"I'm not talking to _you_."

"... if you're gonna talk to it, I think you should give it a morning kiss, too."

James nips at his neck.

Sirius moans again. "Love, if you woke me up to be a tease, we will be fighting," he mutters.

"No fighting," James replies, letting go of Sirius for a moment as he reaches over to his bedside table.

"I don't like fighting," mutters Sirius, kicking the blanket off his legs.

"What do you like, then?" asks James as his hand returns to its earlier ministrations.

"Shagging," Sirius replies, tipping his head back as he rocks into James's hand.

James chuckles. "Oh, good."

Sirius's hand goes between them to wrap around James. "I really think there's too much talking going on here," he mutters.

"You're cranky when you're sleepy," James replies. His fingers loosen their grip.

Sirius makes an annoyed noise and lets go of James entirely. "This should not be news to you."

James's hand moves back to Sirius's hip. "Ssh."

"Hmph." Sirius turns back around, pushing his arse against James's groin.

"Trust me," James mumbles, over the sound of a bottle cap being unscrewed.

"Like I've ever _not_ ," says Sirius, in a far less pouty tone.

"Well then, stop sulking," whispers James, gently sliding a finger inside of him.

Sirius makes a breathy noise and doesn't answer, hips pressing back again.

"I _really_ like Sundays," breathes James, his own hips pushing forward on their own accord.

"I really like _you_ ," murmurs Sirius, over his shoulder.

"D'you really have to see Ivy this morning?" James asks as he eases in a second finger.

"No," Sirius says shortly, wiggling his arse further onto James's hand. "Don't talk about girls when you're about to fuck me."

James bites back a moan. "Fair enough."

Sirius moves his hand down to his own cock, stroking slowly. "So what're you waiting for?"

"Just giving you a chance to adjust," replies James, pressing a kiss to the back of Sirius's neck again. "You _did_ just wake up, and all."

"That was ages ago," Sirius dismisses breathlessly.

"Good," moans James in reply, removing his hand and sliding inside of him.

"Merlin," gasps Sirius, voice a happy moan.

"James is just fine."

"Uh-huh," Sirius mumbles, beginning to rock his hips gently.

"Can't you just stay here," James asks, attaching his lips to Sirius's neck once more as he thrusts forward, "all day?"

"Fuck, I wish I could."

James's reply is half moan, half chuckle.

"I really do," mutters Sirius, rocking his hips backwards.

"Then do," James mumbles against his neck. "We'll wrap up here, have a shower..."

Sirius makes a hopeful noise. " _A_ shower?"

James makes a noise of agreement.

"I think I'd like _a_ shower."

"We'll have _a_ shower," says James, "and then I'll – oh – I'll make you breakfast in bed –"

Sirius moans softly, his back arching. "With bacon?"

James moans back in reply, biting down on Sirius's neck. "Anything you want."

"Bacon," Sirius repeats decidedly, his voice hitching oddly on the single word.

"Just shut up about bacon already," groans James, arching his hips forwards rather sharply.

"Nng," hisses Sirius, his body clenching. "Fuck, love." 

James bites down on his neck again. Sirius makes a low, keening noise.

"Stay," James whispers.

Sirius breathes a swear word in response.

There is a muffled noise, rather like a knock, from somewhere in the house. James lifts his head a fraction. Oblivious, Sirius just rocks his hips backwards.

There's another, different noise from the lower level.

"Si," James warns. "Did you hear anything?"

"Did you say anything?"

"No, I – yeah, do that again."

Moaning, Sirius tightens around James again, arching and turning his head for a kiss.

James responds with enthusiasm, all thoughs of weird noises seemingly forgotten.

There are light footsteps on the stairs.

"Merlin, love," moans Sirius.

"Yeah," James agrees.

"You feel so go—"

The door opens.

James's eyes go wide. "Accio blanket!" he snaps, catching said blanket in his (wandless) hand and throwing it over their hips.

A moment later, Ivy's head peeks around the door. "Sirius, are you awake?"

"Ivy?" asks Sirius, going up on his elbow and twisting to blink rather confusedly at her. "Uh, hi."

James goes beet red, hiding his face in Sirius's neck.

"I thought we said 9 o'cl –" Ivy breaks off, noticing their rather compromising positions. "Oh."

"We did," agrees Sirius, rather absently, his forehead wrinkling thoughtfully. He glances down at James. "Love, did you just—"

Ivy just stands there.

"Do you mind?" James finally manages, sounding rather pained.

Blinking, Ivy backs out of the room. "Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'll just wait until you're done, take your time, enjoy, no worries."

Sirius doesn't seem to be paying attention to her. "You don't have your wand," he says to James.

".... unless you've changed your mind about that threeway..."

The arm not being used to support Sirius waves Ivy away. "That was rather hot," he announces, the thoughtful expression melting from his face.

James's head falls onto the pillow as the door closes. "That was _mortifying_!"

"Mm." A gleam has appeared in Sirius's eyes. "No."

"No?!"

"If she came back in here, d'you reckon you could summon something else, too?"

James begins to pull out.

"Don't you dare!"

"What?"

I am _getting_ my shag this morning, James Potter," declares Sirius, a touch sternly.

"... are you serious?"

"You'd think by now you'd know better than to ask that question," Sirius says, letting his elbow slip out from underneath him and untwisting himself so that he's once more lying comfortably on the bed.

"Si," James objects. "Your friend just walked in on us."

"Yes, and then she walked back out."

"But –"

"And you were being all impressive, and I am still horny." Sirius pauses to throw a hopeful look over his shoulder. "Please?"

"... impressive?" James asks, shifting his hips just slightly forward.

Sirius nods, his breath catching slightly.

"Impressive how?"

"Wandless magic is hot," mumbles Sirius.

"... what wandless magic?" James asks, his left hand snaking up Sirius's hip.

"...summoning the blanket?"

"... oh."

"Yes." Sirius grins. "I like it when you do hot things."

James can't quite keep the grin out of his voice. "Wandless magic turns you on, eh?"

"When you do it."

"Maybe I'll have to practice," James says, his voice low. "Si?"

Sirius makes a questioning noise.

"You really leaving, then?"

"After you shag me."

"Shame," James says, pressing his lips to the back of Sirius's neck again. "I guess I better make up for all the time we'll lose, then." His left hand wraps around Sirius's erection.

Sirius moans. "I— uh-— yes."

"Make sure you don't forget me," adds James, punctuating the statement with a quick thrust,

A strangled noise leaves Sirius's throat. "...no."

James speeds up slightly.

" _Yes_ ," moans Sirius, arching to meet each of the thrusts.

"Want you to think about this," James whispers. "All day."

"Was going to anyway," Sirius gasps back.

"You're dreadful, you know that?"

"So're you."

"And you get off on it," James groans.

Sirius doesn't dignify this with a reply, instead moaning, "Fuck, James, _harder_."

"Don't go," James says as he complies.

"'s only for a few hours." Sirius lifts his arm to tangle his fingers in the hair at the base of James's skull. "Think how much fun we'll have when I get back."

James chuckles darkly. "And a shower?"

"And a shower," Sirius confirms breathlessly.

"And we'll lock the door."

Sirius chuckles noncommittally.

James's grip tightens around Sirius.

"Ah, shit."

"C'mon," James gasps.

"Just... a little harder, love," says Sirius, half-pleading.

"Always harder," James says, doing as asked nevertheless. "Bloody insatiable —"

Sirius hisses his pleasure. "Almost sounds like — fuck — you're complaining," he manages.

"Never," James moans back, slamming his hips forward. "Like that?"

"Oh fucking _yes_!"

"Yes," James agrees, repeating the motion. "You — oh —"

Sirius moans incoherently, his body moving in time with James's.

"You'll hurry back home," groans James. It's more of a demand than a question.

Sirius nods frantically.

"Say it."

"I'll hurry," Sirius gasps almost immediately, hand moving down to wrap around James's on his cock.

James moans loudly. "Yeah, you will."

"Just _you_ hurry _now_ ," Sirius pleads.

"Not before you," says James as he speeds up even further. His lips latch on to the back of Sirius's neck.

Sirius opens his mouth to reply, but his muscles clench suddenly, and the only sound he ends up making is a hoarse, wordless shout as he convulses, coming hotly on their hands and his stomach. James lets out a rather smug sounding short laugh, his hips keeping up their movement.

"...oh, fucking shit," mutters Sirius, his eyes closed now.

"Si," James gasps. His hand slips from Sirius's cock to his hip.

"... yeah?"

"Just —"

"Mm?" Sirius turns his head, lips searching for James's.

James kisses him rather desperately.

"C'mon," Sirius mumbles into James's mouth. "Come for me, love."

"Now who's bossy," James manages, before his hips slam forward one final time and his words trail into a wordless moan.

Sirius makes a smug, laughing noise, leaning for another kiss.

" _Good_ morning," James mumbles against his lips.

"Afternoon will be better," Sirius mumbles back, grinning.

"Hurry up and leave then," says James, showing no sign of releasing him, "so you can get back."

Sirius's grin gets wider. "Gotta let me go first, love."

"Don't wanna."

"Greedy bastard."

James's arms loosen their hold. "Get out, then." He's still wearing a lazy grin.

"Right," says Sirius, pulling away only to lean back in a drop a swift kiss on the corner of James's mouth. "You go back to sleep."

"Mm," James agrees, turning over. "Have fun."

"We will when I get back," Sirius replies, climbing out of bed and grabbing his wand off the nightstand.

"Kiss," James demands, pouting his lips.

Performing a quick _Scorgify_ , Sirius rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, though he's still grinning. "Sir, yes sir," he mutters, rounding the bed and leaning over for a proper kiss.

"Love you," James whispers when he pulls away.

"Know that," Sirius whispers back, brushing the backs of his fingers down James's cheek before he straightens.

"That's not a proper reply," complains James as he flips onto his stomach, pulling a pillow up over his head.

"Your cock is my friend?" Sirius tries teasingly, grabbing a pair of boxers from a half-open drawer and pulling them on.

"Better, but no."

"You're my favourite boyfriend?" Sirius teases again, already halfway into his jeans.

James makes a displeased noise.

Sirius chuckles and buttons his jeans before he says anything else. A t-shirt and a pair of socks in one hand, he walks back to the bed and plants a kiss on James's bare shoulder. "I love you, James."

"I know."

Laughing, Sirius tucks his wand into his pocket with his free hand and turns to leave the room.

Cheerful smile on his face, he bounds downstairs, heading for the kitchen, his shirt and socks still in his hand.

He stops short just inside the door.

"Oh, good, you're done," says Ivy, who is perched on the kitchen counter, a glass of orange juice in one hand, the morning paper in the other. "Shall we go or do you need some nourishment first?"

Sirius stares at her for a moment. "You were in our kitchen."

"Yes?"

"The... whole time?" Sirius glances, a bit nervously over his shoulder.

"When I wasn't getting the paper," Ivy nods. "Is he always that loud?"

"Sometimes louder," Sirius replies immediately, then glances over his shoulder again as he seems to realise what he's just said. "I mean—"

"And bossy, too."

Sirius switches his gaze between Ivy and the doorway several times. He grunts something unintelligible and quickly begins to yank his shirt on.

Ivy hops off the counter. "What was that?"

"We should leave before James decides to come down," announces Sirius, once his head is through the shirt's neckhole. "He'll turn eight shades of purple if he realises you were here."

"Really?" asks Ivy, but she heads towards the door. "Didn't sound like he has anything to be ashamed of." She pauses. "And he has nice arms, too."

"Nice other bits, too," mutters Sirius, stopping at the fridge to grab an apple. "Do me a favour and go grab my boots? They're by the front door."

"Only because I like you," Ivy grins, heading towards the hall instead.

"Bloody voyuer woman," Sirius mutters at her back, then bites the apple to hold it between his teeth while he yanks his socks on.


	51. 3–9 September 1984

**Monday, 3 September 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How did your family, and James's, react when you told them about your relationship? /Karen** Dear Karen, James's mother was very happy for us. None of my blood relatives were canvassed for their opinion, except my cousin Andromeda, who is of the opinion that we "make sense" — I do love it when people agree with me. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend just told me that she doesn't want to be mates anymore and I can't stop crying. We've been best friends since we were five years old and I don't know what happened. My mum yelled at me for being stupid and emotional as it's only a friend and no boyfriend but I feel heartbroken. Am I overreacting? /Roisin** Dear Roisin, Aw, sweetie, no, you're not. That's a perfectly understandable reaction to a friend doing that, especially if it came out of nowhere, like you said. Sometimes friends dumping you can hurt even worse than boyfriends doing so. I know it won't fix anything, but get yourself a big bar of chocolate and try not to think about it for a few hours. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is it true people like you have some sort of radar for spotting others like you? How does it work? Is it very reliable? /I.L.** Dear Ill, "People like me"? Yes, gorgeous folk do tend to be able to recognise each other... Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the biggest misconception people have about you? /Ava** Dear Ava, I think that can be pretty much summed up with "arrogant, self-centered fribble". Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My sister is dating a man who, for all intents and purposes, could be our father. Our dad was not a very nice man. I pointed this out to her and she told me I was imagining things. What can I do to make her see reason? /Concerned Sister** Dear Sis, If it were me, and just flat out, logically telling her — possibly with a point-by-point comparison, just for thoroughness — hadn't worked, I'd set about deliberately provoking the paternal-similar behaviour. And if that didn't work, well... just knock him out, Obliviate him, and dump him somewhere very far away. Like the Gobi desert. Sirius  
---  
  
**Wednesday, 5 September 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am convinced that my husband of six years is actually gay and in deep denial about it. He says I'm crazy and won't even talk about it until I come up with some sort of evidence. So far all I've got is that he shaves his underarms and refuses to make love to me anymore. It's a start, at least - do you have any hints on what to look for? /Beard?** Dear Beard, I've an idea for you. Start making comments regarding the attractiveness of fit males, such as celebrities and Quidditch players, all the time, especially when he's a bit distracted. If he really is gay, and possibly even if he's not, eventually he'll slip up and agree with you — and then you'll at least have a starting point for forcing a conversation. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend and I have been mates since we were tiny (we're in our 20s now) and we get along great, with one small exception. She's always, always putting me down in some way! She keeps talking herself up on my cost — like, "my hair colour looks so much better with these shoes than yours!" when she borrows my shoes, or "this dress would look terrible with your lack of cleavage". How can I get her to see she's really hurting me? /Gemma** Dear Gemma, Well, if you don't want to just say "That's really hurtful and I want you to stop", you could try turning the tables and doing the same thing to her. Either she'll realise on her own what's going on, or she'll get upset and confront you, at which time you can do the whole "well, you started it" thing. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, What is the best and worst things about being famous? /W.R.** Dear War, The worst thing is that there are so many people, _strangers_ , observing and criticising my life, and the decisions I make. The best thing is, well, how easy making friends in grocery stores has become, haha. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have managed to catch myself a boyfriend and I feel the time is ripe for me to better him. How do you go about changing things like personal hygiene, music taste, interests in general and clothing style in your mate? /Maria** Dear Maria, ... I would only dare attempting to change personal hygiene and clothing style. Music taste and interests are not, unfortunately, the sorts of things you can just alter as you please. As for the other two, only mess with them if there's a REAL issue — like they only shower twice a month, or dress entirely in rags they've worn since they were ten — and the best way to do that is to inform them, kindly, that you'd prefer if they did something different. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you reckon it's possible to AK yourself? /Sad** Dear Sad, I really don't know. I never got around to trying. I, uh, don't recommend that you do so, either. Sirius  
---  
  
**Friday, 7 September 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you're a boy why do you have a boyfriend? Boys should have girlfriends not boyfriends. I have a girlfriend her name is Anna and she is very nice. /Xander aged 8** Dear Xanderkins, Well, most boys do have girlfriends — congratulations on yours, by the way! — but sometimes a boy decides he doesn't like any girls enough, and so he gets a boyfriend. Like mine. His name is James and he's very nice, too. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I hate all my housemates and they hate me too. Do you think it's possible to change houses? /Firstie** Dear Firstie, I'm sorry, but it isn't. My parents checked. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I REALLY REALLY REALLY hate working out but I want to get in shape. Are there any shortcuts? Some sort of spell, potion...? /Shapeless** Dear Shapeless, Not that big of shortcuts, no. You still have to exercise to get in shape... it's part of what it means to "be in shape" — after all, it's possible to look nice and all, but if you can't hardly walk around a room without passing out, you're not anywhere near in shape, are you? You'll just have to suck it up and try to find some form of workout that you can stand. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm dating a guy who, before he met me, was notorious for being a big women's man. He swears that he's changed and that he's now strictly a one-woman guy, and I've seen nothing to suggest otherwise, but people keep warning me that a tiger doesn't change his stripe and all that. What do you think? Is there a future or should I get out before I get hurt? /Meredith** Dear Meredith, If he says he's being faithful, and you've seen no evidence to the contrary, and he hasn't displayed any signs of being untruthful otherwise, and you're actually happy with him... why on Earth would you let _other people's_ opinions influence you to do something which clearly goes counter to your own inclinations? Besides, prematurely ending something just because you're afraid that _some_ point, _some_ time later on, _someone_ will do something to hurt you is just cowardice. Stupid cowardice, no less. Sirius PS: Yes, tigers do. 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My best friend has transferred to Beauxbatons and it's HORRIBLE! I have other friends but it's not the same. I miss her all the time! Is there anything I can do to make this any easier? /Eva** Dear Eva, Aww, poor baby! I suggest writing her lots and lots of letters, and finding people to talk to about her — and plan some really big get-together over the holidays. Also, see if the two of you can't sneak a Floo call or two. I hope things get easier for you! Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
8 September 1984  
12.13 am_ **

 

The house is dark, except where light from a streetlamp filters through the windows, and quiet — until a loud pop sounds, announcing the arrival of someone on the step, and the front door is flung open without ceremony. Before the door has even finished bouncing off the wall, the figure is dashing up the stairs and flinging open the door to the master bedroom, as well.

Half a second later, James (without his wand or his glasses) is on his feet. One of his arms clamps tightly across the intruder's midsection, while the other goes across their neck, effectively pinning them against his chest. At the same moment, Sirius rolls halfway to the side (far enough to snatch his wand from the nightstand), then sits up, wand pointing straight at the intruder and half a Stunner already out of his mouth.

"Sirius!" squeaks the stranger. "It's me!"

"— _pef_ — Wait, _Lily_?"

James loosens his hold slightly. "What the hell, Evans?"

"Overreacting much?" Lily mumbles, pulling away from him slightly and rubbing at her neck. "Ow."

Sirius's arm drops, lowering is wand to the bed, where the covers have pooled around his hips. "... swear to Merlin, if the word 'threesome' leaves your mouth, Lils—"

She blinks at him. "Actually, I was about to ask Potter to let go of my breast."

"Oh." Sirius blinks. "James, stop groping Moony's girlfriend."

James makes a small strangled noise, letting go of Lily entirely.

Smirking slightly at the colour his boyfriend's face as turned, Sirius turns his gaze back to meet Lily's. "There, you're no longer being molested."

Lily shoots him a very toothy smile. "And I am no longer Moony's girlfriend."

" _WHAT_?" shrieks Sirius, looking about ready to leap out of bed and kick some major werewolf arse. Lily shoves her left hand in his face.

It takes Sirius a moment to focus on the glittery bit, but then he makes the same strangled noise as James had before.

"I know!" squeaks Lily.

James just stands at the edge of the bed, looking confused.

Sirius grabs Lily's wrist, pulling and twisting at the same time so that she falls on the bed next to him, and he can wave her hand in James's direction. "Lookit! There is sparkly!"

"Er," says James.

"On a _very important finger_ ," Sirius adds, pointing.

James blinks, before his eyes widen. "Oh!"

Sirius redirects his pointing finger to Lily's face. "How long?"

Lily glances at her watch. "Sixteen minutes!"

"... you wasted sixteen minutes in telling me?"

"... you felt the need to tell us this at a quarter past midnight?" James says at the same time.

Sirius sends James something that might be either a glare or a pout. "Why shouldn't she have? We weren't doing anything important."

"Some people might consider sleeping important," James argues. "Blanket."

"Naps were invented for a reason," counters Sirius, staring at Lily's hand some more. Lily smooths down the blanket, covering up Sirius's bits once it becomes apparent that he's not going to bother. He doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm engaged!" Lily half-shrieks.

"I see that!" Sirius beams back.

"Congratulations," James says, sounding like he actually means it. "Er, d'you mind if I put a shirt on?"

"Oh, like she's even going to notice your naked-chestness."

Lily gives him a quick once-over.

"... or maybe she will."

Blushing again, James grabs a shirt off the floor and shrugs it on. "You're lucky I was wearing pants," he mumbles.

"Which is an ironic statement if I've ever heard one," adds Sirius. He lifts Lily's hand again. "May we focus on the temporarily-more-important-than-naked-James-ness now?"

"Ring!" squeals Lily.

Sirius nods. "Engagement!"

"May I please sit down on my bed now?"

"Finally," Sirius adds, rather ambiguously.

James sits down at the very edge of the bed.

"It was so romantic," Lily gushes. "One knee and roses and it's our anniversary and —"

Sirius makes a half-horrified face. "Remus John Lupin did something _romantic_?"

"— you didn't put him up to it, did you?"

Sirius's expression instantly shifts to completely indignant. "I _beg_ your pardon."

"You didn't put the idea in his head, did you?" Lily repeats, frowning.

"Oh, yeah, because I would totally tell _Remus_ that he could pull off romantic," Sirius scoffs. " _Pl_ ease, Lils, this is the kind of important that he needs to do on his own. Even _I_ know that."

James tries to hold back a snigger.

"Oh," Lily says, enormous smile returning. "Well, good."

" _Very_ good," agrees Sirius. "Except I would totally have picked out a better rock."

"Please don't," mutters James.

"Shut it." Sirius shoots him a brief smirk. "You, I've already got rocks for."

"Oi!"

Sirius is already turning back to Lily. "So, bended knee, you say?"

"Yes," Lily says, still beaming. "And then I made him pinch me."

"And he didn't get offended and purple?"

"He laughed!"

"My _god_ , it really is a miracle!"

" _I know_ ," Lily says. Her eyes are starting to look rather wet.

Sirius turns her hand so the diamond on her ring sparkles, even in the dim light from the window. "I mean, this is _monumental_ , right here. _Historic_ , even."

"Very nice," James agrees. "Si, you do realise you have to be up in less than seven hours..?"

Sirius dismisses the remark with a tiny wave. "Last week I went into work after two hours sleep, three days in a row. This is _shiny_."

Lily stares at her own hand happily. "Isn't it pretty?"

"... actually, it _is_ ," replies Sirius, sounding faintly amazed.

"And he picked it out himself," Lily adds, sounding rather unbelieving.

"What, you mean without _any_ help?" Sirius raises his eyebrows. "No way."

"I do occasionally have _some_ taste, you know," a new voice says from the doorway, sounding rather long-suffering.

"Oh, great," James mumbles, wincing. "Now it's a party."

Lily beams. "Hi, baby."

"Lupin," says Sirius, looking up at the man as he steps into the room. "You are _engaged_."

"Congratulations," James offers.

"Thank you," replies Remus, his chest puffing out slightly. He glances around the room, taking stock of everyone sitting on the bed, and Sirius's bare chest. "But really, Lily, this is a bit much, don't you think?"

"Why?"

"Normally, when women accept a man's marriage proposal, they don't usually run off without a word of warning to sit on a bed in the dark with his best friends." Remus pauses, wincing slightly. "Naked, apparently."

"Blanket," James says again.

"What?" asks Sirius, sounding legitimately confused.

"Blanket," Remus repeats, gesturing vaguely toward Sirius's lap.

Sirius glances down. "Oh. _Blanket_."

"Bloody —" James reaches across Lily, covering him back up. "There."

"Does he just not _own_ pants?" demands Remus, looking a little desperately in the direction of James and Sirius's chest of drawers.

"Don't open that!" James snaps.

Remus jerks back like he's been burned, even though he hasn't touched anything. "... do NOT tell me why I shouldn't!"

James gives him a look. Remus pulls a face and turns instead to switch on the light.

"... why are you two spending your engagement night here, again?" asks James.

"Because her ring is pretty," says Sirius, from where he and Lily are still absorbed admiring the sparkles.

"Well, you can't have your celebratory shag in here," James says firmly. "I just changed these sheets."

"That was before we did the thing we did before we fell asleep," Sirius points out, still without taking his eyes from the ring. "So technically they're not clean, anyway."

James colours again. Remus, surprisingly, doesn't.

"We really do need to teach you about what other people need to know and not," James mumbles at Sirius.

"It won't work," mutters Sirius.

"I think the problem is that he doesn't _care_ ," says Remus, at the same time.

"Quite," James agrees. "So, when's the big day?"

Abruptly, and for the first time since walking into the dark room, Remus looks a bit panicked. "I was supposed to think that far?"

"June 15th," Lily says at the same time.

Remus blinks at her. Then, much more calmly, "June 15th, of course."

"I'm requesting the whole week off," Sirius declares.

"... you're not about to offer to be the maid of honour, are you?" asks James.

"No!" Sirius shoots him a wounded look. "... I was about to accept, when Lily — of course — offered."

"... can a man actually be maid of honour?" asks Remus, frowning. "Especially such an obviously non-virgin-y man?"

"Are you calling me a slut?"

"This is not relevant," Lily interjects. "Look at my BLING."

"'Bling'?" Remus repeats in a much smaller voice.

"Congratulations, Lils. You have successfully confused _your fiancé_ for the first time ever," announces Sirius, obediently continuing to ogle the ring. "I am proud of you."

Lily makes a very high pitched noise.

Remus stares at the two of them. "... I've had an epiphany, James."

"Yeah?" 

"You really _are_ dating a girl."

James raises his eyebrows. Sirius turns a prefabricated glare on the man. "I could stand up," he says, rather loudly.

Going a bit pink, Remus hurriedly shakes his head. "No, no, that's— uh, that's not necessary. I, er, take it back."

"How did this end up being my life?" James asks, shaking his head.

"You smiled at me on the Hogwarts Express when you were eleven," answers Sirius, still glaring at Remus. "After that, you were doomed."

James turns to give him a grin.

Remus huffs. "And now I need an insulin injection, or something."

" _You're_ the one who got down on one knee," James argues, still grinning rather schmoopily at Sirius.

"I usually prefer to use both," Sirius adds.

James covers his face with his hands.

"Stop stealing my thunder," Lily says, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Take your thunder home, then," replies Sirius unrepentantly, grinning now. "I'm sure your new fiancé would appreciate a bit of lightning tonight, and I think I need to blow James like a very large hurricane."

"Sirius," James complains, still covering his face with his hands.

"What?" Sirius turns to him with an innocent expression. "If I'm perverted enough, Remus will become horrified and they'll leave to preserve his sanity. It's _strategy_."

Ignoring him, Lily sits up on the bed. "Wanna go home, babe?"

Remus beams at her. "That is the second-best thing you've said all night."

"Aw," James says.

"Now _I_ need insulin," protests Sirius. Going up on his knees, he points imperiously toward the door. "Out, you soppy lovebirds, you."

"Blanket!"

"God, I can't see that!" shrieks Remus, slapping a hand over his eyes. "It's not even _flaccid_ , Sirius!"

"This is my bedroom," says Sirius reasonably. "I can be naked and aroused if I want to be naked and aroused."

"But the woman I'm going to marry can see that!"

"Afraid she'll change her mind?" James mumbles.

Remus and Sirius both glance down. Then Remus turns purple and glances quickly away again, while Sirius shrugs. "Why would she? It's not like she'd get this if she did."

"I just want everyone to know that this is on the list of conversations I'd hoped never to have," Remus announces loudly, looking pointedly at anything but Sirius.

"Get out," James says, grinning.

"Yes," agrees Sirius. "Or you'll be watching something you hoped never to see."

"I'm going!" shrieks Remus, starting for the door.

"Actually —" Lily begins.

Remus spins back around, marching over to the bed and grabbing Lily by her newly be-ringed hand. " _NO_."

"Bye!" Lily says, waving with her right hand. "Have fun!"

Sirius waves back as Remus tugs her out of the room. "You as well!"

"Congrats!" James shouts after them. "Please knock next time!"

"Or at least be quiet on your way in!"

" _Sirius_."

"... I mean, yes, knock."

"Good _night_ ," shouts Remus, from somewhere near the bottom of the stairs.


	52. 10–16 September 1984

**_The Evening Prophet Offices  
London, England  
10 September 1984  
10.37 am_ **

"Good news," Thora exclaims as she drops a bunch of papers onto Sirius's desk.

Sirius looks up from his very intent contemplation of his mocha. "Whose definition, mine, yours or Tony's?"

"Our readers'." Thora looks very pleased with herself indeed.

Like flipping a switch, Sirius un-slouches in his chair. "Don't tell me. I get my questions back."

Thora grins at him.

Sirius lets out a whoop. A very loud one. Adelaide's head appears around the partition separating Sirius's desk from the many others in the room. "Told him, then, have you," she surmises, with a huge grin.

"You are very predictable," Thora tells Sirius. "And I owe Addie a Galleon."

"Two," corrects Adelaide, giving her a pointed look. "Hubert had spinach for lunch, remember?"

Sirius ignores this exchange. "I've got them back? All ten?"

"Quite."

Sirius whoops loudly again, throwing his arms in the air and doing a rather flail-y chair dance.

"And that was without a single drop of the day's second mocha," mutters Adelaide almost proudly. Her arm appears around the partition as well, plopping another cup down next to the pile of papers dropped by Thora.

"As long as you think you'll be able to handle it, of course," Thora adds.

"Are you kidding? I have been _waiting_ for this," says Sirius delightedly, still flailing a bit. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're so adorable," declares Adelaide, right before she disappears the way she came.

The corner of Thora's mouth twitches. "Just... try to keep it family friendly, yes?"

"I'll do my best," Sirius replies. His grin is very wide and quite brilliant. "But really, I think everyone knows what to expect from me at this point, don't you?"

"And yet I'm the one who gets sent complaints."

"Of course you are. I just get the dirty questions begging me to talk about gay porn and my sex life and whether they're ever combined."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're on about," Thora smirks.

"Oh, please." Sirius rolls his eyes. "You were the one who wanted footage."

Thora mimics a halo over her head.

He laughs. "Yeah, yeah. It's being held up by horns, though, Thora my dear."

"Oh, shut it, boy."

In response, Sirius blows her a kiss, before turning to beam at his mocha and question-loaded desk.

* * *

**Monday, 10 September 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Is there anything about you that you're really scared the world will find out? Any scandal fear, as it were. /Rosie** Dear Rosie, Now, how am I supposed to answer that question without nullifying the whole "scared the world will find out" thing? All I'm gonna say is that there are some things from my Hogwarts days that I'm not proud of, that I'm extremely glad most of the Death Eaters I fought during the War aren't in a position to talk about it anymore, and that the Aurors (and everyone else) had better hope nothing nasty and painful ever happens to James. And no, I won't be elaborating on any of those, so don't any of you go asking. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, My wife and I just had our fifth baby and we're having trouble finding time for us as a couple. I realise you don't have any children or even a wife, but maybe you know some useful hints nevertheless? /Seb** Dear Seb, Grandparents, aunts and uncles, and babysitters. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Why is it that when grownups say "maybe" they always really mean "no"? Why don't they just say no right away? /Kelsie** Dear Kelsie, Oh, that's simple; they haven't quite convinced themselves yet that they want to disappoint you. If you're really adorable and quiet about accepting their maybe, sometimes it really does turn into a yes! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Ever since I was tiny I've wanted to be a Healer, and I finally finished my education six months ago. Now, however.... my work is eating my life! I feel as though it's all I ever have time for. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but I also love things like sleep and being with my friends! What should I do? /Allie** Dear Allie, Go on strike and demand fewer hours? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been going out with my boyfriend for about a year and a half and I'm very happy with how things are, except for one aspec. I know for a fact that he is more deeply invested in me than I am in him. I don't see this relationship lasting forever and he's already talking marriage. It's making me feel rather guilty. What should I do? /Cold Heart** Dear Cold, Tell _him_ that, and let him decide if he still wants to spend a few years — or months, or weeks, or whatever — with you, even if you're not going to be a forever deal. And then live with his decision. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am single since a year and I'm sick of it, but I never meet any guys that grab my fancy! Do you have any tip on where to meet potential boyfriends? /Cecily** Dear Cecily, Try the grocery store — only make sure they're single before you start hitting on them. That gets awkward. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Just before I came back to Hogwarts, my 18-year old sister got into a huge row with my parents and left home. None of us have heard from her since, although we've been told she's staying with a friend and is safe. I feel really upset about this — we were really close and now she's just abandoned me! What should I do? /Alix** Dear Alix, Follow her. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I've been at my current job for about two years, and yesterday I found out I'll be getting a promotion. On one hand I am really pleased, as it's exactly the direction I was hoping to go in, but something is really bugging me. A co-worker of mine is more qualified, has worked here longer, and wanted this promotion more than I did.... yet I was picked and she wasn't. I feel almost disloyal to her, accepting it. What should I do? /Derek** Dear Derek, I would talk to her, and then your bosses. While making it clear that you appreciate the promotion, ask them why she didn't get it — perhaps there's something you don't know about which disqualifies her from the position (hopefully other than her gender). If there isn't, and you still feel uncomfortable about it... maybe you should consider recommending that they give it to her. Now obviously this is an unlikely outcome, as it takes a special level of unselfish fairness to do that, but at the very least it might shine a good light on you, in your bosses' eyes. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have a problem with my mother. I am 26 and have been out of my own for a while, but every time my mum comes over she starts bossing me around! "Clean this", "cook this", "don't slouch", "are you sure those robes are a good choice".... Why is she doing this? What can I do to make her stop? /Big Baby** Dear Babs, Just in case you thought it was, I want to assure you that this behaviour is not a reflection on you — it is a reflection of your mother's inability to let her baby go. Other than simply telling her to stop, and not listening to her if she continues, it doesn't seem that you have much of a choice but to endure it and comfort yourself with the knowledge that your mother still gives a damn about your life and what you do with it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am in a really great relationship with a wonderful guy but there is a problem: he doesn't want anyone to know we're going out. We've been dating for nearly six months and no one, not even my best friend, knows about it. It's driving me batty having to lie to everyone! Why do you think he insists on keeping it mum? Is he ashamed of me? What should I do? /Anastasia** Dear Stasie, Tell him you're proud of him and want to show him off, and ask him why you can't. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland  
11 September 1984  
1.06 pm_ **

"How many more d'you reckon he'll have to do?" Cliodhna asks, looking at her watch.

"Quite a lot, probably. Coach is furious," Christine replies, examining the nails on her left hand. "Did you _see_ how the poor bastard was flying?"

"I dunno what he expects though, first practice for two months..."

"Yeah, but James _never_ flies like that." Christine's gaze switches to the nails on her other hand. "Merlin, he looked tired."

"Hm." Cliodhna narrows her eyes, focusing on the pitch.

"Exhausted, really," Christine goes on, beginning to flex her fingers, on at a time, staring as if it's the most fascinating thing ever. "Rather as if he didn't sleep all night..."

"Are you sure you want to go there, Chris?"

Christine drops her hand. "Well, why the fuck _wouldn't_ I want to?"

"... where are we going?"

Cliodhna yelps. Christine jumps, glancing over her shoulder at the man standing between and just behind them, grinning.

"Hello, lovely quidwitches."

"Sirius," Cliodhna complains. "Don't do that."

Sirius's grin twitches a little wider. "What, eavesdrop, or sneak up on you?"

"Yes."

"Both, Cliodhna agrees. "Blimey."

"But you were talking about James. I just know you were."

"Just because he's your boyfriend doesn't give you the right to listen to anything everyone says about him ever," mutters Christine, without any heat.

Sirius looks vaguely curious. "It doesn't?"

"No," says Cliodhna, then pats the seat next to her. "And if you're here to have lunch with him, I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

At this, Sirius's expression droops a little. He moves around to take the offered seat. "Is he hiding from me?"

"... should he be?"

"He never has before," replies Sirius, sounding amused by Cliodhna's almost wary tone.

"Well," says Christine, raising her voice a bit, "he's never almost fallen asleep on his broom before, either, has he."

"... wh _at_?"

"Or nearly fallen _off_ his broom," adds Cliodhna.

" _Or_ ," adds Christine, with a very pointed look, "nearly ridden his broom _into_ a goal post, _completely by accident_."

Cliodhna turns to look at Sirius. "Has he been practicing _at all_ this summer?"

"What a stupid question," Sirius says, waving a dismissive hand. "Like anyone or -thing could keep that man away from a broom that long."

Cliodhna keeps her eyes fixed on him.

"He was flying practically like a _Hogwarts student_ ," stresses Christine, crossing her arms.

"... hey, hey, hey, you should have _seen_ him fly as a Hogwarts student!" Sirius protests.

"Was he this bad?" Cliodhna asks, nodding towards the pitch.

Sirius looks out toward the pitch, where James (under the watchful and irate eye of his coach) seems to be flying loops around the goal posts... with rather less than his usual smoothness.

"Oh holy mother of Merlin's babies," Sirius mutters.

"Was he?" repeats Christine.

Sirius is staring out at James. "I don't think he was that bad when he first got on a broom."

"Uh-huh."

Christine shares a look with Cliodhna. "Uh- _huh_."

"I think maybe I broke him a bit," Sirius remarks, eyes still on James.

"... you broke him a bit," Cliodhna echoes. "Do we want to know?"

"Er... I don't know." Sirius finally looks back at the girls. " _Do_ you?"

Christine looks thoughtful. "Is there any nakedness?"

"Copious amounts," replies Sirius calmly. "Gratuitously copious amounts."

"Then no," Cliodhna grimaces.

"... I was gonna say maybe," mutters Christine.

"Chris!"

Sirius snickers. "I don't think she meant for that to actually make it past her lips."

" _Any_ way," Cliodhna says, turning her gaze back to the pitch. "He's busy."

"I see that."

Christine blinks. Then she leans in to Cliodhna and loudly whispers, "Clee, look. He actually _pouts_. Like a five-year old."

"A very big one," Cliodhna whispers back.

"A very fit very big one."

"Very."

" _Very_."

Cliodhna shifts slightly to look at Sirius, who is still right between them. "Hi."

"Not 'very' hi?" asks Sirius, smirking a bit.

Cliodhna grins.

"Word of the day," says Christine.

"James is very bad today," Cliodhna says. "See, I used it in a sentence."

"And I was trying to be very good, being very _not_ suspicious," adds Christine. "See, I used it twice in a sentence."

"Yeah?" Sirius snickers a bit. "Well, my word of the day is 'fuck' — shall I use that in a sentence?"

Cliodhna just stares at him while Christine blinks.

Sirius smirks. "Oh, fuck, I came to see my _very_ fit boyfriend and now I'm disappointed that I don't get to fu—"

Cliodhna clears her throat very loudly.

"I think words of the day are supposed to be G-rated, Black."

"Thank you, Christine."

"You're quite amusing, really," Cliodhna says suddenly. "Rude, but amusing."

"Thank you!" says Sirius, looking delighted. "I'm not always rude."

"Just most of the time?"

Sirius looks mournful for a moment. "The combination of James and perverted thoughts tends to have a rather unfortunate effect."

"Resulting in terrible flying?"

"Er..." Sirius clears his throat.

"... I want my wedding dress to do this," Christine announces.

"Shh!"

Sirius stares at Christine, who is turning a bit red. "Someday, someone _will_ explain that to me."

"Sure," Cliodhna says, sounding very insincere. "But I think your boyfriend is heading this way now."

Completely distracted, Sirius fairly leaps from his seat.

"James! Love!"

Cliodhna shakes her head as the boys disappear out onto the pitch and out of sight. "He's really not all that bad, you know."

"No," agrees Christine. "I just hate him because I'm jealous."

Cliodhna pats her arm.

Christine makes a pitiful little noise. "Stupid gorgeous funny awesome people with fit Quidditch boyfriends," she mutters.

"Very," Cliodhna says.

"He could at least be nice to me and not... be _nice_."

"Very. ....wait, what?"

"When he's nice I can't pretend he's not nice."

"It's hard to be you," Cliodhna agrees. "Are we going to have lunch or what?"

"You can eat after that... sickeningly not sickening display?" asks Christine, gesturing in the direction James and Sirius have disappeared.

"Yup."

"... oh, good, so can I."

"Chinese?" asks Cliodhna.

"Awesome."

"Very."

* * *

**Wednesday, 12 September 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Would you ever go 24 hours without using magic, as a bet? What if it was for charity? /Paulie** Dear Paulie, Well, yeah, I suppose I might, proved I wasn't ever, you know, attacked or anything like that. And that I had James or Not-Mum around to feed me. And Mathilda Ermyntrude didn't run out of petrol. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think a romantic relationship between a witch or wizard and a muggle can ever really last? I mean, love is blind and all that, but are our two worlds just too different to be compatible? /Crushing on an engineer** Dear Crushing, If our worlds were too different to be compatible, then Muggleborns wouldn't be able to live within Wizarding society and still manage to retain huge portions of their lives before they discovered magic — and many do. Like my friend Lils, who does things like fellytone people. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think there's something wrong with me. I'm 22 years old and I have NO interest in finding a girlfriend (or boyfriend for that matter). Surely this can't be normal? Do you think I'm seriously ill? /Concerned** Dear Concerned, I suppose it's possible, if unlikely, that you're seriously ill and it is effecting your, er, desire for a significant other... It's more likely that you've just never met anyone you really want, or else you're simply one of those people who want to be alone. It happens; I don't understand it, but it happens. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I don't want to grow up ever. Is there some kind of potion that will keep you as a child forever? Grown ups never seem to have any fun and all they do is talk about paying bills. /Ellen** Dear Ellen, Clearly, you've just never been around the right type of grown-ups! You should come hang out with me for awhile — _I_ know how to have _fun_. Besides, I've never heard of a potion to keep you a kid forever. If I had, I might have used it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you think it's possible to be in love with someone without feeling sexual attraction towards that person? /Matthew** Dear Matthew, Well, I never have, personally... but that's not exactly saying much, as I have only ever been in love once, and the sexual attraction part happened either simultaneously, or shortly beforehand (it's difficult to judge accurately, as not many people would ever consider a twelve-year old capable of "being in love" properly). I suppose in theory it's perfectly possibly, except that I'd normally think being in love with a person meant loving everything about them, including their appearance, and if you love how they look, why wouldn't you want to shag them? Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have any hidden skills? /Antonia** Dear Toni, Unlike James, who could probably use his stupidly (but very yummily) buff arms to do crazy awesome unusual things like walk up a flight of stairs on his hands, I'm afraid I really don't. All of my talents are distressingly out in the open. Well, except that one I'm not allowed to share because then my boyfriend would be embarrassed and I wouldn't ever get happy time ever again. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you learnt to trust someone after being horribly hurt by someone else? My ex husband left me in a not very nice way and now I'm just too jaded to let anyone close to me. What should I do? I can't live like this! /Burnt** Dear Burnt, First of all, I hope you hurt this ex husband of yours something fierce, because it sounds like he deserves it, whatever he did. As for letting people back in... the only thing I can tell you is that you need to keep reminding yourself that the fear of losing something, even in a painful way, shouldn't be enough to keep you from trying to have it to begin with. Maybe if you say it often enough and loudly enough, you'll believe it. If that doesn't work, I recommend finding a therapist to help convince you. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Have you ever tried gardening the Muggle way? What did you think of it? Would you ever take it up as a hobby? /Isaac** Dear Isaac, ... what, like, with a _shovel_?! Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have NO idea what I want to do with my life. And I'm not a teenager or in my 20's either, I am 38 years old!! This is really ruining my life. How can I get an idea of what to pursue in order to give my life some actual substance? /Loser** Dear Ancient, Who ever said that life needed substance, I'd like to know. It takes the fun right out of everything. Which, having been said, should tell you that I'm not really the person to go to for answers. Not, at least, if you expect an explanation other than "Well, what do you enjoy? Do that." Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Do you have a favourite historical witch or wizard? If so, who? Why? /Merlina** Dear Merlina, I know it's cliched, but Godric Gryffindor. His name used to get thrown at me like an insult a lot, so I've learned to love it. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Imogen Potter's Residence  
Minehead, Somerset  
12 September 1984  
2.32 pm_ **

"There," announces Imogen in a stern, decided tone, loudly depositing on the table the plate she's holding. On it is a perfectly enormous sandwich. Next to it she places a large bowl of carrot sticks. "Eat."

"Mum," James protests. "I have a gym session in half an hour."

"You look like a swizzle stick," his mother argues. "Have you been letting Sirius eat _all_ the food at supper again?"

"No!"

Imogen narrows her eyes at him. "Then _why_ are you so _skinny_?"

"I've been slacking off weight lifting over the summer?" James suggests.

Imogen pokes his shoulder. "I can count your _ribs_. Through your _shirt_."

James rolls his eyes. "Now you're just being melodramatic."

"Hmph." Imogen pokes him again. "You're skinny and you'll shrivel up and die and Sirius will fall apart and die too and then I won't have any sons, as well as grandbabies."

".... excuse me?"

"You will not rob me of _all_ my immature young relatives!"

"Mum, have you considered taking up a hobby?" James asks, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Bridge, perhaps?"

"I did." Imogen turns away, sniffing slightly. "Greta thinks I cheat."

"I think _Greta_ cheats."

"Poorly," mutters Imogen. She moves to fuss with something on the counter. "She never wins at all."

"I know," James manages around a mouthful of food. "This is delicious."

"Thank you." Imogen doesn't look particularly mollified. "Food is supposed to be. Hasn't Sirius taught you _anything_?"

"I'm the one who does all the cooking!"

"Yes, and he does all the eating."

"Not _all_ of it," James argues.

Imogen turns around again, her eyebrows lifted pointedly.

"I do eat!"

"You haven't been this... this _small_ since — well — last summer!"

"I skivved off my weight lifting then, too!" James argues. "I've already had this lecture from my coach!"

"Well, I suppose his cake burned today as well, then, did it!"

"... what cake?"

"I was baking," replies Imogen, with a slightly wild look to her eyes. "A chocolate cake. I _never_ burn them."

"Oh." James reaches over and grabs her hand. "You don't need to make me cakes, mummy."

Imogen wilts a bit, fortunately into a chair. "Sirius only comes to see me when I promise him cake. And bikkies. And strudel."

"He's not even here," James argues.

"Because I burnt the cake!"

"Because he's at work!"

"... Oh. Right. Yes." Imogen sniffs. "Well."

"He got his ten questions a day back and everything."

"I saw," she says. "I was rereading Monday's. Right before I spilt my glass of sherry."

James winces.

Imogen looks a bit forlorn for a moment. "And now you're going to waste away into nothing and Sirius will turn his brain off and Lily will stop having a reason to visit. There will be no babies of any kind in my house and _I burnt the cake_!"

"Lily and Remus are getting married!" James offers, very suddenly. 

Imogen blinks. Several times.

"I _beg_ your pardon?"

"They got engaged."

"... _when_?"

"Couple of days ago," James says, waving a hand. "Over the weekend."

Imogen blinks again, only once this time.

"Right," she says, reaching over and snatching the plate from in front of James. "Out."

"Wha?"

Imogen points toward the door. "Out! I need to call that girl and give her a piece of my mind."

James blinks. Why?"

"She's been engaged for a couple of days and she didn't tell me!" exclaims Imogen rather shrilly. "When did she tell _you_?"

"Er."

"... I knew it!" Imogen points more insistently. "Out!"

James scrambles out of his chair.

"Shoo!" she says, hurrying over to open her back door, still pointing.

"Thanks for lunch?"

"I'm putting the rest of it in the fridge for you." Imogen finally lowers her arm, though she's obviously still shooing her son away. "And bring Sirius by after dinner. I'm going to make another cake, which I will absolutely not burn, and there will be no sherry. It will be lovely. He can tell me if he helped Remus pick out the ring."

"I can tell you that no—"

She closes the door behind him.

" — right."

The door opens again. Imogen leans out — and up — far enough to buss his cheek. "Bye, dear."

"Bye, mummy."

The door closes again.

* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
13 September 1984  
4.55 pm_ **

"This is so _boring_ ," mutters Sirius, making a disdainful face and throwing a piece of popcorn at the television, where a man in a very white coat is talking about fabric dyes.

"What was that?" James shouts from the kitchen.

"A fat ugly man with stupid hair and no fashion sense is telling me to buy anti-bleach," Sirius hollers back.

"Anti what now?"

"Stuff to colour fabric."

"You know, you could give me a hand in here —"

Sirius makes his expressively uninterested face again, and throws some popcorn in the direction of the kitchen, as well.

There is a series of very rapid knocks on the door.

"I'll get it!" he exclaims, sounding almost relieved.

The knocking continues. Bowl of popcorn still in one hand, Sirius flings the door open.

"I need you," Ivy says, sounding rather desperate.

Sirius pauses a moment before speaking. "... for...?"

"Shopping," Ivy says, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the house. "James, I'm stealing your man for a couple of hours!"

"For shopping," Sirius shouts over his shoulder. "Only shopping!"

"We're eating at six!" James calls back.

Sirius glances at Ivy. "I can't miss food, you know."

"Must be nice of you to have a housewife," Ivy remarks, kicking the door shut.

"Yes, it's lovely — am I bringing my popcorn shopping?"

"Leave the popcorn," Ivy says. "Isn't there some bush you could dump them in?"

"Dump perfectly good popcorn!?"

Ivy opens the door again.

"Thank you," says Sirius, leaning inside to set the bowl on the low table near the front door. He pauses, half in the house. "... may I bring my shoes?"

Ivy glances at his slipper-clad feet. "When did you turn 80?"

"They're _comfy_ ," he defends, kicking his slippers into the house and dragging out his motorcycle boots. "And they look like someone shaved me—I mean my dog."

"Uh-huh," Ivy says, not really paying attention. "Would you hurry up? This is an emergency."

"Right, right." Sirius stomps his feet into his boots and slams the front door. "There, all ready. Er... what kind of shopping are we doing, emergency-like?"

"Groceries."

Sirius, on his way down the walk, stops. "... when was the last time you ate?"

"Ten minutes ago," Ivy replies, waving an impatient hand. "That is not the point. I need to get laid."

"Okay, I think I'm confused." Sirius crosses his arms. "I approve of food sex, but what does this have to do with emergencies and why do I need to be involved and _WHAT_ is going _ON_?"

"Alec said he'd cook me dinner," Ivy says, half-running down the lane. "At my house."

Sirius hurries after her. "What, tonight?"

"Tomorrow."

"... so what's the emergency?"

"I have no food that says shag me." Ivy pauses dramatically. "And he's so timid."

"Which is where self-throwing comes in handy," Sirius says, mostly to himself. "Okay, I suppose I see the need for shopping — but for _me_?"

"You're getting laid, aren't you?"

"By the man who does the cooking, yes," replies Sirius. "But that's probably because I think pretty much all food says 'shag me', and if it doesn't _I_ say it."

"That's beside the point," Ivy says, speeding up even further. "D'you know how long it's been since I've had any?!"

"... I don't think I need to know," he says under his breath.

"Three _months_!"

Sirius stops walking. "That's a joke, right?"

"I wish it were." 

"I wish it were, too." He hurries to catch her up and throws a commiserating arm around her shoulders. "You poor, poor thing. Let's go get you some shagging food, _right now_."

"That's what I'm saying," Ivy half-shouts. "Can't we just Apparate there?"

"Muggles," says Sirius, as a tiny old man in a bowler passes them.

Ivy whines loudly.

Sirius pats her head. "Almost there."

"Let's buy loads of asparagus."

"Asparagus is _not_ sexy."

"No?" Ivy asks, rounding a corner and almost-sprinting to the store, which is now in sight.

"No. We'll buy some melons and things."

"Why melons?"

"... so he'll want yours?" Sirius grabs a basket and follows Ivy into the store. "Maybe cucumbers."

"I don't have any cucumbers!"

"Buy some, then! Everyone needs phallic symbols."

Ivy glares slightly at him.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." Sirius clears his throat. "What were _you_ thinking, then?"

"I don't _know!_ " Ivy exclaims. "That's why I need YOU!"

Sirius considers this. "Right. We need vegetables. Cheerful ones."

"Right."

"Because sexy vegetables," he explains, while leading the way to the produce section, "are too over-used."

"Okay," Ivy nods, sounding like she's actually taking him seriously.

"So no tomatoes." Sirius bypasses those. "Broccoli, perhaps."

"What is sexy about broccoli?"

"Nothing. That's the _point_." Sirius puts some broccoli in their basket.

"... okay..."

"He can, like, boil it slightly, or whatever." Sirius raises an eyebrow at Ivy. "What kind of cooking does Alec do, anyway?"

"I have no idea." Ivy pauses. "What do accountants eat?"

"... toast?"

"Money toast?"

"Toasty money?"

"Hm."

Sirius looks pensive. "We'd better go with people food."

"I agree." Ivy nods solemnly.

"Potatoes it is, then."

"That's not sexy at all!"

"You can ask him to make chips. Chips are very sexy. I always want to shag James when I see _him_ eating chips."

Ivy gives him a look. "You want to shag him all the time."

"... not _all_ the time," mutters Sirius, with a tiny glare.

"Uh-huh."

"Which reminds me..." Still muttering to himself, Sirius moves away from the produce.

".... reminds you of what?" Ivy asks, scurrying after him.

"Something I need to pick up while we're here."

Ivy follows, looking rather wary.

Looking very familiar with the aisle he's led her down, Sirius goes directly to what he's looking for and grabs it. A second later, they're heading back toward the produce. "Now, that's done. What else do _you_ need?"

"What did you get?"

"Lube. We're almost out."

"What, your weekly bottle is nearly dry?" Ivy asks, winking.

"Yes," answers Sirius, with a completely serious expression.

"I'm very happy for you," Ivy deadpans. "Now let's get me some shag me food."

"Yes." Sirius nods. "Back to our mission."

* * *

**Friday, 14 September 1984**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Sometimes my parents lock the door to their bedroom and don't let me or my brother in. Why do you think this is? /Amanda aged 9** Dear Amanda, Well, sometimes parents — and other grown up people — need to be alone with each other to do special, complicated grown up things. But these things really are ONLY for grown ups... which is why they lock the door. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, If you could only pick one aspect as the most important one when it comes to relationships, what would it be and why? /Lemonia** Dear Lemony, Well, I really think honesty is incredibly important, no matter which arena it's applied to — physical, emotional or anything else. If you can't be honest with a person, you have very little chance of having a successful, fulfilling relationship with them. So, though that's probably not the sort of answer you were going for, that's what I'm giving. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I am really terrified of getting dragon pox. Do you know what steps I can take to minimise the risk of catching it? /Jenny** Dear Jenny, Don't visit any hospitals and stay away from people who have it. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I understand that you're part of a group that really enjoys sleeping in bunk beds, as it were. My question is this: which bunk do you prefer, top or bottom? /Ty** Dear Ty the Clever, While it's true that I usually prefer the bottom bunk, I also occasionally enjoy the top — the view is so interesting, you know. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I think my boss might actually be insane. He's always been somewhat excentric, but lately it's been out of control. He's showed up to work wearing a sailor's outfit, he's started calling all of his employees "Stanley" (men and women) and last week I walked in on him having a conversation with a rutabaga he keeps in his desk drawer! Do you think we should be worried? What should I do? /Stanley #14** Dear StanFourteen, Well, that's certainly... special. I'd say you should contact his family... and a loony bin. And maybe invest heavily in sedatives, just in case he goes even further off the deep end. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I have an enormous crush on a friend of mine, only he happens to be married. I think I would have a shot if I let him know how I feel, but I'm undecided on whether I should or not. What do you think I should do? Would you have made a move on James, had he been married to someone else? /Carla** Dear Carla, Answering your second question first, no, I would not have, since I never would have let him marry someone he'd never be happy with, and there's no way I'd do anything to make him unhappy, such as breaking up a happy marriage. But back to your situation. Your thinking you might have a shot with your friend suggests that his marriage isn't the best one around, and stands a fair chance of breaking up without your involvement — so I think you ought to wait and see if that happens. When and if it does, well, make your move. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, How do you know if you're a compulsive liar? Lately I've found myself fibbing when asked such inane questions as what I had for lunch. Should I be worried about myself? /Irene** Dear Irene, I don't know if that's necessary a sign that you're a compulsive liar, as much as it just might mean you don't want people knowing that you eat sauerkraut and avocado sandwiches. I'd reckon it's when you start lying about EVERYTHING — big, small, medium, dust bunny-sized — that you need to worry. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, Between age 15 and 21 I dated this wonderful woman, who then broke up with me one week before I was planning on proposing to her. Needless to say I was devastated, but what's worse is that I still don't think I'm over her. I've dated several women since, but I just find myself comparing them all to her and no one quite measures up. Why do you think this is? Is there anything I can do about it before it ruins all of my future relationships? /Jason** Dear Jason, Make yourself a list of what you want to remember about this woman — and make sure the only things on it are negative. Read it at least once a day. Or, just start dating men. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, I'm currently five months pregnant and my boyfriend is so excited to be a dad. The only problem is... it's not his baby. I thought he'd figure this out by himself, since we've only been dating for four and a half months, but I guess maths isn't his strongest side. Should I tell him? How? /Brazen** Dear Hussy, Honey, have you stopped to consider that maybe he already knows that, but he just doesn't _care_? After all, it doesn't sound like the baby's biological father is going to be part of the equation... so it still adds up to "his baby" if you look at it a certain way. Just ask your boyfriend. Nicely. Sirius 

* * *

**Dear Sirius, When you were 15, what did you think your life would be like at 25? What turned out the same, what turned out different, what was the biggest surprise? And if you had the chance to do it all over again... would you, or would you change the outcome? /Nostradamus** Dear Prophet, I think the biggest surprise has been that I'm actually in a relationship with James — at 15, I certainly didn't think _that_ would ever happen. Other than that, being estranged from the rest of the Black family, and being down one brother, I think my life has pretty much turned out the way I hoped it would, or maybe even a little better, in a few areas (like my work) where I didn't have any idea what I wanted. I think, when it comes down to it... yeah, I'd do it all over again. I like my life, now. Sirius  
---  
  
* * *

**_Residence of Lily Evans and Remus Lupin  
14 September 1984  
7.49 pm_ **

Remus frowns thoughtfully, then reaches out and moves a playing piece to a new square. "There," he says. "Your turn."

"Hmmm." Lily narrows her eyes at the board.

Remus picks up one of the discarded, taken pieces from the side and fiddles with it.

"Stop it."

"What?"

"You're distracting me." Lily finally makes her move. "There."

"... you just took eight of my pieces!"

Lily looks very smug.

Remus looks put out. "I thought you said I was being distracting?"

"Shut up or I'll flash you my boobs."

Remus raises an eyebrow, his displeased expression shifting into something almost Sirius-like in its lechery. "You don't expect that to actually make me shut up, do you?"

Lily's smile widens. "No, but it'll distract you."

"You're going to win, anyway, so why bother?"

"Why bother?"

"Why bother continuing the game, I meant," clarifies Remus, getting out of his chair to go and sit next to her on the sofa.

The bell rings.

Lily makes a face.

Remus groans. "God, I hope it's not Mother again."

"Do we have to get that?"

The bell rings again.

"Oi!" hollers a very recognisable voice. "Open up, you lazy bastards!"

Remus groans more loudly.

".... oh, great," Lily sighs. "One sec!"

Remus covers his face with his hands. "Are we really letting him in?"

"Do you think he'd _leave_ if we didn't?" Lily asks, getting up.

"It's _Sirius_ ," mumbles Remus. "We could just shout that he's interrupting our shagging — he disapproves of that kind of thing."

Lily's already opened the door.

"Hello, my darling engaged woman," Sirius greets brightly, planting a loud kiss on her cheek. "I've come to steal your fiancé."

"I don't want to be stolen," Remus complains. "I was going to get laid."

"Remus," Lily chides. "What do you need him for?" she asks Sirius.

"I want to take him out for a drink or two or three or eight," he replies. He smirks. "Besides, he's engaged; engaged people don't get laid."

"You should try it some time, and see if you still believe that," grumbles Remus, getting up from the sofa. "Will I need my coat?"

"Am I wearing mine?"

Remus rolls his eyes. "You've got your leather coat on. You always wear your leather coat when you're driv— I am _not_ riding on that beastly thing."

Lily laughs. "Bye, babe," she says, reaching up to give him a kiss. "Don't get him too drunk," she instructs Sirius. "I want him to be functional when he gets home."

"That is assuming he was ever functional to start with," snickers Sirius, throwing an arm around Remus's neck — eliciting a long-suffering groan but no actual resistance — and starting to pull him out of the house. "Thanks for letting me borrow him, Lils."

"Have _I_ said you can borrow me?" Remus tries.

"You got off the sofa all on your own," Sirius points out. "I didn't have to drag you up or anything."

Remus scowls as the door closes behind them. "Where is James?"

"At home." Sirius steers him toward the motorbike waiting at the end of the drive.

"... is he sick?"

Sirius pauses. "... why?"

Remus gestures to the empty space next to Sirius.

Sirius huffs. "I do sometimes do things which do not involve him, you know. Even when we were at school."

"Uh-huh."

"... is it really _that_ odd for me to be spending time with you, without him?"

"A little," Remus nods.

"I hate people," complains Sirius, clearly to himself. Then, directed at Remus, "We're having some pints and hanging out and I'm going to pretend that you don't think the world might be ending."

"All right..."

"Come on." Sirius removes his arm from Remus to punch him lightly in the shoulder. "Enthusiasm would be nice."

Remus gives him a slight grin. 

"Good enough." Sirius climbs on his motorbike and tosses a helmet at Remus. "Put that on."

".... what?" Remus sounds rather terrified. "Where's yours?!"

"I don't wear one," replies Sirius dismissively. "Never have." He nods at the helmet in Remus's hands. "But knowing your obsession with safety, and with your skull remaining intact, I bought that. Now get _on_ , mate."

Remus blinks. "On _there_?"

"No, I'm making you wear a helmet to walk along next to me and Mathilda." Sirius grins. "Yes, on here."

"But –"

"For Merlin's sake, Remus, I'm not going to rape you."

Remus flushes scarlet.

Sirius points at the seat behind him. "On, you pussy."

Still looking very unsure, Remus does.

"Arms," instructs Sirius, looking over his shoulder. "I go very fast."

Both of Remus's arms glue themselves around Sirius's middle.

"Good boy," snickers Sirius, stomping the motorbike to life, his words almost lost in the roar of the engine. Remus whimpers.

They take off up the road.

* * *

**_Residence of Sirius Black and James Potter  
15 September 1984  
9.16 am_ **

"Open wider," James instructs. He is holding a piece of popcorn in his hand.

At the other end of the sofa, Sirius complies. "Ih uh be'ah?"

"Whassat?"

"Is this better?" Sirius repeats more distinctly, then returns to hold his mouth open as wide as possible.

"Depends on what the purpose is," James grins. He throws the popcorn.

The kernel sails beautifully straight into Sirius's mouth. He starts chewing, but doesn't swallow before he speaks. "Shut it," he orders grumpily. "I'm waiting for Alec. You can't get me all turned on."

".... only you would get turned on by this."

"By innuendo, James, not _this_."

"You sure?" James leans back, opening his mouth. Sirius lobs a bit of popcorn at him. It hits the rim of his glasses. "Improvement," James grins. "At least you hit my face this time."

Sirius growls. "Why are we even playing this stupid game?"

James's grin widens.

Sirius growls again. "Why am I rubbish at everything you want to do?" he complains, rather loudly.

"Not _everything_."

"Yes, well, we can't do that right now, can we?"

James glances at his watch. "Where _is_ Alec, anyway?"

"I don't know." Sirius leans forward, trying to look at James's watch as well. "What time is it?"

"Eighteen past."

Sirius pulls a grumpy face. "Wasn't he supposed to be here, like, a half an hour ago?"

James raises an eyebrow at him. "Eighteen minutes ago."

"Same difference," mutters Sirius, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm taking time out of my busy schedule for him to tell me how rich we are, and he's not even here on time! It's very rude."

"Your busy schedule of shagging, eating, shagging, sleeping, shagging...."

Sirius is unable to avoid grinning. "Quite. All that shagging makes it _very_ busy indeed."

James sits up straighter, leaning towards Sirius.

"I _like_ being busy," Sirius adds scooting closer to James's end of the sofa.

"Uh-huh."

"You like it when I'm busy, too."

"Quite." James licks his lips. Sirius lifts his hand to the back of James's head and tugs gently, leaning in.

Their mouths just barely meet, when there is a rather tentative knock on the front door.

"... if that is Alec I will _hex_ him," James growls, getting up and walking to the front door. He yanks it open rather violently.

Their accountant is standing on the step, wearing rumpled slacks and a polo shirt, looking rather dazed. "Er," says Alec, blinking a bit. "Hi."

James blinks back. "Hello. Run into a horde of rampant hippogriffs on the way?"

"Uh," says Alec eloquently. He blinks some more.

"Al?" Sirius questions, looking around James and staring. "You... aren't in a suit."

Alec looks down at himself. "Oh."

"... are you quite alright?" asks James.

"Um," is Alec's reply.

James glances over at Sirius. "He hasn't been hexed, has he?"

Sirius is still staring at Alec, and looking like he wants to grin a bit. "No," he says slowly, "I don't think he's been hexed... but I suspect Ivy might have broken him." 

"Ah," agrees Alec, nodding.

"Oh." James blinks some more. "I see. Er."

"He was making her dinner last night," Sirius explains, turning to James. "That's why I had to help her buy shag me food, remember."

" _Shag me food_?"

"Yes. You know, food that says 'shag me'?"

"Er," contributes Alec.

James stares at them both. "Right."

"Ivy wanted to get laid," Sirius explains more bluntly, reaching past James to grab Alec's arm and tug him into the house. "I think she went accountant hunting."

".... that's not what you intend to do, right?" James asks, looking suspicious.

Sirius snorts. "Alec doesn't swing that way, do you, Al?"

Alec shakes his head. "Erm."

James winks at him.

Alec stares at him and turns a bit pink around the ears. "... you're so not helping," he mutters after a moment.

"Off with ye," James grins, waving a hand at the two of them. "Go talk about how rich we are."

"Yes. Once we get poor Alec's brain back," laughs Sirius, tugging Alec toward the kitchen.

Still grinning, James moves to close the door.

"Oi!" exclaims a female voice from the other side, as the toe of a brown leather boot is thrust between the door and the jamb. "Don't be rude, Potter."

James blinks at the foot. "Evans?"

"Yes," says the voice. "Now open this door back up and stop crushing my poor little woman toes."

James complies.

"Good," says Lily, stepping into the hall and latching both hands around James's upper arm, a determined expression on her face. "Now. Come with me."

"Er."

"Perfectly simple instruction," Lily mutters, when he doesn't move despite her tugging. "Even Remus understands that one."

"Where are we going?" James asks, sounding extremely confused.

"We're looking at dress robes, of course."

"..... what?!"

"White ones," Lily adds calmly.

"Sirius," James tries. "Si!"

Sirius's head emerges through the kitchen door. "Yeah? Oh, hullo, Lils."

Lily waves with one hand, the other still wrapped around James's arm.

".... why do you need _me_?" asks James.

"Need you? For what?" asks Sirius, looking a bit amused. He quirks a brow at Lily. "Stealing my man, are you, darling?"

"Yes," replies Lily. "For shopping only."

James gives Sirius a rather petrified look.

Sirius smirks. "Well, all right then. I'll go back to helping poor Alec retrieve his brain — Ivy seems to have sucked it right out."

"There is something so wrong about today," James mutters as Lily pulls him out the door. 

"Don't whine," instructs Lily, laughing a little. "You get to see me play dress up."

"Oh, happy day."

"Yep." Lily drags him down to where she's parked her car. "Just make sure you pay attention. Sirius will want details."

"... we're going in a _car_?"

Lily gives him a look. "What did you think, we'd take your broom?"

James just looks at her.

She huffs. "For God's sake, Potter, it's a _car_. It's not going to eat you."

James looks very unhappy, but gets in nevertheless.

"See, I knew you could be trained," mutters Lily, as she walks around to get in on the driver's side. "Sirius just doesn't _try_."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Lily says, sliding in behind the wheel. "Off we pop, then."

"... why are you dragging _me_ along for this, again?"

"Because Remus can't see the robes until the wedding, and I need a man's opinion."

"But Sirius —"

"I said a _man's_ opinion."

"Hey!"

Lily glances at him, while taking a turn probably a bit faster than necessary. "What?"

"Sirius is a man," James mutters, pouting a little.

"Yes, I know that, Potter," replies Lily, rolling her eyes. "But his views on fashion are _not_ the most manly thing about him."

"... you do have a point."

"See?" Lily grins. "Therefore, you were required."

James makes a face. "What is it you'll be needing me for, exactly?"

"Looking at things I like and telling me whether they're attractive or unnecessarily fiddly or just plain horrid, of course. Man's opinion."

"Right."

Lily glances at him. "Stop thinking about my boobs."

"I wasn't!!"

"Uh-huh. You had the boob look on your face."

James splutters.

"Sirius knows about the boob look, too."

"He does not!"

"You're so adorably clueless, Potter," laughs Lily.

"I've been called worse," James says, finally grinning back at her. "... they do give you champagne at these places, right?"

"Sometimes." Lily removes one hand from the wheel and uses her thumb to point to the back seat. "I've brought beer, in case they don't."

"I knew I loved you for a reason, Evans."

"Careful," Lily says, smirking. "I might almost start thinking we're friends."

* * *

**_Countryside, Southern England  
16 September 1984  
12.07 pm_ **

"Enjoying yourself?" shouts Sirius, glancing up toward the sky through the fringe of hair, which keeps blowing into his eyes.

"Whassat?" James hollers back.

Sirius lifts one hand from the handle bars of his bike, cupping it around his mouth and yelling more loudly, "Enjoying yourself?"

"Don't do that!" James replies, manouvering so that he's closer to the ground. "Bloody hell, what if you fall off?"

Sirius looks amused. "Says the man doing barrel rolls!"

"Yes, but I _know_ I won't crash!"

"And _I_ know that _I_ won't," retorts Sirius.

"Well, be careful," James says, poking the back of Sirius's head with his foot. "Only got one of you, and all."

"I'm irreplaceable," Sirius agrees, grinning. He glances down the road. "Tree incoming."

James takes off upwards again. "Race you?" he hollers. Sirius revs Mathilda's engine in answer. Without bothering to wait for further confirmation, James zooms off.

"... this is so not fair," Sirius mutters, obviously to himself as James is quite far ahead already. "Stupid twig thing is faster than Mathilda to begin with — when the Speed King of Quidditch is on it, we haven't got a bloody buggering chance in hell, do we, girl?"

James disappears in the distance.

"He'll be waiting for us," Sirius goes on, half glaring in the direction James has gone. "Sitting somewhere, all proud of himself. 'Oooh, look at _me_ , I am _fabulous_..." 

Sirius is still muttering when he rounds a bend and spots James, sitting on a rock not far from the road. He is wearing a quite obnoxious grin. Sirius brings Mathilda Ermyntrude to a grass-spitting stop in front of him.

"Fancy meeting you here," James grins.

"Racing you is pointless," Sirius complains, kicking down the stand and climbing off the motorbike.

" _I_ quite enjoy it..."

"Naturally you would. You _always_ win."

James's grin grows even wider. "Exactly my point." He pats the space next to him on the rock.

Sirius ignores the suggestion, instead climbing up to sit behind James, a leg on either side of his hips. He wraps an arm across the front of James's shoulders and tugs him back against his chest. "A good thing you didn't have the basket, though."

Tipping his head back so that it's resting on Sirius's shoulder, James replies, "But I packed it."

"Yeah, and it would have come all _un_ packed after a single one of those... stunts you do," Sirius points out, nuzzling against the side of James's neck. "Think you're unbreakable, you do."

"Y'know you love my stunts, really."

"Well, the lack of Bludgers involved in these _is_ quite nice..."

"And here I thought the tricks that involved balls were you favourites," James grins up at him.

"Mm." Grinning too, Sirius plants a kiss behind his ear. "Are you offering one of those?"

"What, here?"

Sirius looks around. "Why not? There aren't any peoples... or goats..."

James raises an eyebrow at him.

"... which means no spectators, which means you ought to be willing."

"I thought we came out here for a picnic, not a blowjob."

"But blowjobs are always on the menu."

James winks at him.

Sirius grins. "So, please?"

"Maybe as a dessert. If you're nice."

Sirius nuzzles his neck again. "How nice?"

"Hmm...."

"I can go first," Sirius offers, grinning warmly against James's skin. "If, y'know, that's what's required for 'nice'..."

"How 'bout you feed me first?" James asks, turning his face towards Sirius's.

"But I'm hungry."

"For what, exactly?"

"If you have to ask..." Shaking his head, Sirius leans to kiss James.

Grinning, James shifts to face him more fully.

"There was no shagging this morning," Sirius mumbles, moving his mouth along James's jaw to his neck. "You had your stupid picnic idea, instead."

"Curse me, eh?"

Sirius nips at the lobe of James's ear. "Something like that."

"You know you love me really," James says, grabbing the back of Sirius's head and pulling until their noses touch. "Hi."

"Yeah, well." Sirius's smile is slow and rather soft. "I can't really help that."

"No?" James's face softens.

"No." Sirius shakes his head slightly, rubbing their noses together. "Not that I'd ever want to, anyway."

"Good," is all James says. He tugs at Sirius's hair again.

"Even," says Sirius, not moving, "though you don't give me head whenever I want it."

"Lucky me."

"Yes." With a grin, Sirius moves to kiss him again, whispering, "Because I _do_ give head on command."

James chooses to kiss him rather than to dignify this with an answer.

"Do I really have to feed you?" Sirius asks into James's mouth.

"Afraid so," James mumbles back.

"In that case, you have to feed _me_ , too."

"Let go of me, then," James whispers, leaning back in to kiss him again.

"But I'm comfortable with you there."

"What, between your legs?"

"Mhm." Sirius pulls away, but stays close enough to rest his forehead against James's shoulder. "Summon our food, please?"

"... what, we're eating it right _here?_ " James asks, getting his wand out nevertheless.

Sirius makes a questioning noise. "Do _you_ want to move?"

"My bum is going numb."

"That just means I can be as rough as I'd like, right?" But Sirius drops his arms from around James, anyway.

"Oi!" James laughs. 

"Or would that work better if it were MY bum going numb?"

"Oooooh...."

Sirius laughs and shoves James down from the rock. "I thought you wanted food?"

"I do!" James exclaims, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "I'm talking about dessert here."

"Uh-huh." Sirius slides off the rock to crouch on the ground next to James. He grins. "Can I have dessert first?"

James raises an eyebrow at him.

Sirius leans closer. "I like dessert first."

"Where's the blanket?"

"In the basket," replies Sirius, eyebrow arching.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the other man, James summons it.

"Why do we need it?" Sirius inquires, almost idly, hooking a finger in one of the long bits of James's glasses.

"Why d'you think?" James asks, spreading the blanket onto the ground next to them.

"Afraid of a little grass burn?" teases Sirius, giving James's glasses a tiny tug before quickly moving away to sit on a corner of the blanket.

"I don't want grass in my food, more like," James replies, getting the food from the basket with a small, teasing grin.

"Then you should be eating indoors."

"That would be a rubbish picnic, Si."

"Not necessarily. There are beds indoors." Sirius leers at him. "We could've had a champagne and sex picnic."

"... you just made that up, right?" James asks, handing him a sandwich.

"Well, yes," admits Sirius. "But doesn't it sound absolutely smashing?"

"And messy."

"Messy can still be fun!"

James grins and shakes his head. "Eat your sandwich and be quiet."

"Bossy," mutters Sirius, and takes a huge bite.

**_The End_ **


End file.
